


Afterparty

by Vidriana



Series: Good as Gold [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, Gangbang, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Praise Kink, Multi, Oral Sex, Pining, Rimming, Sex As Character Study, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 14:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidriana/pseuds/Vidriana
Summary: “Now that I’ve gotten everyone’s attention,” Henke starts, amusement and satisfaction thick in his voice, “I think we can start this off properly.” Willy turns back around to face the others. They’re all, without a single exception, staring at him.Henke wraps an arm around him so that Willy’s back rests snugly against his chest. His breath ghosts along Willy’s ear, his voice low and intimate when he asks, “So? Which one do you want to start with?”Willy spends an evening getting almost everything he really wants.





	Afterparty

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place after Tre Kronor won gold at Worlds 2017 just like the first part of this series did, and is a direct continuation of it. While it probably helps to have read the first part, all you really need to know is that the pairing was Willy/Henke and there were celebratory blowjobs with exhibitionism and light D/s.
> 
> Not all ships get an equal amount of screentime (or action), and there are also a couple of untagged (and minor) background ships.
> 
> Thousand thanks to my wonderful beta for spending hours upon hours editing this with me and for encouraging me all the way through writing this "extremely emotional porn". I never would have finished even half of this without you! Special thanks also to Soma for being my alpha reader and giving me the most lovely, motivating feedback!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The sun is barely even up in the sky. Willy yawns and watches as the others all pile into the plane, one after the other, bodies heavy with exhaustion and too little sleep, but bright smiles on their faces either way, gold medals around their necks. He casually runs a hand over his own medal before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. 

He feels heavy in the best way, muscles still a bit sore from the exertion of the game, of the whole season really, but so deeply satisfied from the evening before. He can still feel Henke’s beard scrape against his neck as he kisses him, can hear his voice telling Willy what to do. He can still feel the eyes of the others on him.

The memory sends a pleasant shiver through his body. The thrill of winning, and then dropping onto his knees in front of everyone, so high on the feeling of being on top of the world. And then the way Henke had looked at him...

He feels more than hears someone sit down in the seat next to him and lazily opens one eye, not quite willing to abandon his daydream . 

“You look like you’re miles away.” Henke says. “Everything okay?” The question breaks Willy out of his little trance. He hums contently and finally opens both eyes, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Yeah, I was just thinking a bit, but I feel great.” He pauses for a moment, but Henke is far less intimidating now, so he adds, “I mean, my throat’s still a bit sore—” with a playful grin. Henke sighs and gives him an exasperated look, but his eyes sparkle with amusement, so Willy just grins even wider.

“I’m glad you’re in such a good mood,” Henke says, and then, more seriously, “you deserve it.” Heat rushes to Willy’s cheeks, and he’s not sure how to respond, so he doesn’t say anything. They sit in silence for a moment, watching as their teammates trickle in, taking their seats. Willy is about to close his eyes again, when Henke suddenly puts a large hand on his thigh and leans closer, looking thoughtful.

“Speaking of things you deserve, do you remember what I told you? Last night, when we were heading to the showers?” His voice is quiet and raspy, but the way he says the words has such a firm, authoritative quality that Willy has to suppress a shudder. “About celebrating with the others, I mean?” Henke continues, and after the evening they’d had his voice, his tone alone, is enough to make Willy’s dick twitch in his shorts at the memory. His hand on Willy’s thigh feels hot, even through the fabric.

“Because I talked to the team. Turns out there’s quite a few of them who’d like to...congratulate you on your trophy.” His words are slow and careful, but his voice is so steady, such a contrast to the way Willy shifts in his seat, his breath getting a bit shallow as he thinks about it.

“We’re all in Stockholm for a while after the celebration, so if you want,” Henke says, leaning in so close now that Willy can feel his breath against his cheek, “you could come by my room later and find out just how much some of them enjoyed your little show.” 

Willy’s breath catches. “Oh, wow.” His voice sounds thin to his own ears. “I didn’t think you were…” He breaks off, not quite sure how to finish, swallowing to get rid of the sudden dryness in his throat. Because of course Henke had been serious. He’s the one who’s won medals before, who’s been an important part of a winning team. He knows how this goes. 

Willy is so out of his depth.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s just staring at the seat in front of him without really seeing anything until Henke grabs his chin to turn his head, making Willy meet his eyes. Henke’s gaze is wide awake and clear despite all the champagne they’d had the night before. 

“We’re not doing this if you’re not completely on board,” he says, decisive and certain, and Willy feels the knot in his chest loosen a bit at the words. “I’m serious,” Henke continues, when Willy doesn’t make any attempt to respond. “You don’t need to prove anything. If you’d rather—”

“Henke,” Willy interrupts, not even caring that it’s rude. His face feels hot and he’s sure that his cheeks are bright red. “Will you watch out for me?” 

Henke pauses, a complicated expression on his face. “Of course,” he says, his voice earnest, “always.”

Willy’s cheeks feels even hotter, but he shakes his head. “No, I mean, like, can you— Can you, uhm, be in charge.” His face is on fire and even though their teammates are making a ruckus around them and obviously not paying them any attention, he still feels like they can all hear every word he’s saying. “You know, like you did before.”

Henke’s eyes are very dark when he meets them again. “Yes, I can do that.” 

Willy exhales. “And can you—” He licks his lips, gathering up his nerves. “You know I don’t— I don’t like it when…” He can’t say it though, has never actually admitted it out loud before, has never even bothered to put it into words in his own mind. 

“You don’t like being embarrassed,” Henke says, his voice casual. “You don’t like people treating you like a kid, because you aren’t. You don’t like people underestimating you. You don’t like being called names or being talked about like you’re not there. You don’t like being talked down to.” 

He says it like he’s reading a scouting report, like he isn’t dissecting Willy’s character and listing his insecurities.

“Don’t worry,” Henke adds more quietly, more intimate somehow. “I know. None of that is gonna happen, I’ll make sure.” Henke squeezes his thigh once, before he takes away his hand and Willy wonders just how much Henke had noticed while they were having sex. If he also has a list of things that Willy does like.

“We need to plan this a bit better though,” Henke adds, and Willy has to shake his head to get rid of the distracting thoughts. “Yesterday was incredible, but I’d like to make sure we’re on the same page for this.” Willy fidgets, uncomfortable, but he can see the logic behind that, no matter how much he’d prefer it if Henke could just read his mind.

“Alright,” he agrees quietly. “What do you need me to do?” Henke’s smile is gentle, like he can tell how hard this is.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he reassures. “ I’m just gonna need to ask you some questions beforehand, okay?” Willy nods and sits up straighter.

“Sure, what do you need to know?” Henke looks amused.

“Nothing for now. We have all sorts of stuff planned when we get back to Sweden anyway, so I don’t know when we’ll have the best opportunity,” Henke says and gets up off the seat. “I’ll be in touch, alright?” And then he’s gone.

Willy sinks back into his seat and closes his eyes again. For some reason he isn’t all that tired anymore.

————— 

Willy comes out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry with one hand. The dying sunlight coming through the window reflects off the golden helmet where he’d put it after the public celebration, on the little ornamental table that stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. He watches the liquid shadows dance across the shiny surface, taking a moment to look at the display it makes, letting the happiness of the last couple of days flood through his body.

His phone vibrates on his nightstand, the rattling noise shaking him out of the moment, and he goes to pick it up. His heart skips a beat when Henke’s name flashes across the screen. 

_Are you planning on going out tonight?_ Willy smiles, ignoring the pang in his chest that it isn’t the message he had been waiting for. 

_Yeah, you wanna join us?_ Willy responds, putting down his phone when he doesn’t immediately get a response. He’s pulling a new shirt over his head when his phone buzzes again. 

_Actually I was wondering if you wanted to stay in instead._ The message itself is fairly innocuous, but Willy’s breath catches, an involuntary shiver going through his body, his mind immediately flashing back to the plane ride. His fingers shake when he types out his response.

 _Who else is staying in?_ This time, he doesn’t have to wait long.

 _Whoever I invite. Whoever you want._ Before Willy even has time to wrap his head around that statement a second message appears. _Is there anyone specific you don’t want to come?_ _Be honest. They’ll never know and I won’t judge._

Willy can’t help but smile down at his phone, a gentle warmth blooming in his stomach.

He considers the question. There are a lot of guys on the team he wouldn’t be attracted to under normal circumstances, but this is different. This is his team, a collection of people he won with, who know him. Who want him. He can’t really imagine that small things like Klinger’s toothless smile or Stralsy’s age would be an issue for him under these circumstances. He’s at least fine with everyone watching again. 

_Whoever wants to come can come_ ,he sends back, his heart starting to beat faster. He doesn’t have to wait long for a response.

 _They all want to, I get to pick the lucky few_. Willy snorts, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face at the thought.

He knows it’s not true, knows there are many who’d rather celebrate with their families, or with each other, or with someone they’ll pick up in a bar. A small, treacherous part of him, the one he doesn’t like to look at too closely, likes the idea though. It’s...flattering, to think of everyone eagerly waiting to see if Henke will invite them, if they’ll be allowed to touch him this time.

Another vibration of his phone shakes him out of his thoughts. _Is there anyone you really want to come?_

And that’s more difficult to answer. Willy’s mind automatically flashes to beautiful plays and perfectly connecting passes. To getting wrapped up in a hug in celebration, a familiar voice yelling in his ear in excitement, showering him with praise. To smiles on the bench that make him grin so much his face hurts. A hand ruffling through his hair affectionately, making him feel like he’s glowing from the inside out.

He catches his lower lip between his teeth. He should say something, but the idea of Nicky refusing him makes his insides draw together in a painful knot. _Whoever you pick is fine,_ he finally writes and then quickly, before he can overthink it, adds, _When do you want to start?_

Henke starts typing a couple of times, but it feels like ages before the message finally comes through. _Come over to my room in 20 minutes._

Willy stares down at his phone. _Okay,_ he sends back, before dropping in on his bed and throwing himself down next to it. He can do 20 minutes. 20 minutes is plenty of time.

————— 

The corridor is completely quiet, no sound permeating the doors of the adjacent hotel rooms. Willy can’t help but be relieved at the silence, an unpleasant heat rising up his neck at the thought of someone who’s not part of the team overhearing. He lifts his hand and knocks on the door in front of him, before he can lose his nerve. 

He’d changed his shirt three times, before finally settling on the one he had put on in the first place. He’d spent at least five minutes debating whether he should wear the jeans he’d picked out to go clubbing in, but had settled for a pair of soft sweatpants instead. This seemed like the kind of thing he’d want to be comfortable for.

The door opens. Willy takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it’s only Henke who greets him. He’s in a Rangers shirt and loose sweatpants as well, only socks on his feet. He still somehow manages to look elegant and refined, because Willy’s life just isn’t fair. 

“Hey,” Henke greets him, a gentle smile on his lips. “Come in, please.” He pushes the door further open and walks back into the room. Willy takes another deep, calming breath, steels himself, and follows him. The room is empty.

He looks around in confusion for a second. “Where are…” he starts, but trails off. Henke gives him a questioning look from where he’s sat down on the bed, then shakes his head. 

“Oh, the others aren’t here yet. We have some things to discuss beforehand,” Henke answers his unfinished question. He pats the spot next to him and Willy quickly sits down on the bed as well.

“Okay, what do we need to talk about?” He looks down at the thin fabric of his sweats, then starts worrying at one of the seams with his fingernails.

“Do you still want me to be in charge?” Henke asks straight away. Willy’s face heats up again, but he doesn’t hesitate when he answers.

“Of course, yeah. I trust you.” He can’t quite look at Henke as he says it, but he can practically feel Henke’s pleased smile when Henke grabs his hand and squeezes it once, making him stop fidgeting, but also giving Willy something else to hold on to.

“I’m glad to hear it. That makes things easier.” He shifts on the bed, turning to Willy, close enough that their knees lean against each other, and Willy doesn’t know why he feels so incredibly aware of that little bit of contact. “Mostly we need to figure out communication. And also your limits.” Willy sits up at that, and looks at him.

“What do you mean, limits?” Henke holds his gaze, steady and sure, and somehow that alone goes a long way towards calming Willy’s nerves. 

“I need to know what’s okay for you and what isn’t,” he explains. “I’m assuming you’re okay with people watching you, since I saw how much you liked that last night, but I don’t know how they’re allowed to touch you. Would you even like them to? Or would you rather just have me touch you again?” It’s difficult not to look down, look away, but Willy manages somehow.

“I don’t— I haven’t really thought about…” He pauses, because that’s not true. He’d thought about this in explicit detail, had fantasized about it back when he’d first heard the rumors that this was something that winning teams did occasionally. He had spent hours thinking about how he’d like to be a part of...that sort of celebration, before finally admitting to himself that he’d want to be the focus rather than just a participant. Last night had been the first step, but going even further is intimidating and he just can’t say it out loud. 

“I figured you’d decide that,” he finally settles on. It’s an out, and for a second he’s ashamed of not being braver, for not being more honest, but then he sees the way Henke looks at him, more intense, somehow, his eyes a bit darker than before. 

“I’d love to,” Henke says, his voice husky and low, but he keeps pushing. “I still need some guidelines though. Do you want them to touch you?” Willy doesn’t have to think about his answer, having already pictured the hands all over his body enough times, an unfamiliar mouth pressed to his own to swallow up his moans. He nods quickly, before he can overthink it. If Henke notices how difficult the simple admission is for Willy he doesn’t comment, just continues evenly. 

“Okay, that’s good. Is it okay if they get you off? Would you like that?” Willy nods again, a bit too fast this time, and Henke smiles at him. “I need a bit more than that. Do you want them to just use their hands? Can they jerk you off, or would you like someone to finger you as well?” Heat rushes to Willy’s face, but Henke doesn’t give him time to arrange his thoughts enough to answer, just keeps going. 

“Would you like someone to blow you? More than one person has mentioned wanting that to me, so it’s definitely an option. Or maybe you’d like a repeat of yesterday? Having the others watch you while you suck someone off, making everyone else wish it was them?” It’s far from the perfunctory questioning Willy had expected, and Henke seems to realize that, because he laughs, a bit rueful. 

“Sorry, I got a bit...caught up,” He shifts on the bed, drawing Willy’s eyes downward, and it’s sort of gratifying to see the bulge in Henke’s sweats, proving that this isn’t leaving him as unaffected as Willy had thought. “Is it easier for you if I list things and you just nod or shake your head? I feel like you’d rather not have to give a lot of input.” The words settle heavy in Willy’s stomach, but he tries to push through the discomfort. 

“I don’t really...It’s hard to talk about what I want, I guess.” It’s not much, but it feels like a huge admission, like he’s laying his soul bare or something equally terrifying. Henke just squeezes his hand in acknowledgement and nods.

“That’s okay. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t want, okay? This is supposed to be for you.” He sounds earnest and Willy nods, silently vowing to do better. Henke gives him a speculative look, drops it.

“Alright, did everything I mentioned so far sound good?” Willy nods eagerly, and Henke smiles. “Good, that’s good, then we can just see what works best for everyone.” His tone makes it sound like their conversation is coming to an end, and Willy shifts again, before taking a breath.

“I want more than that though,” Willy admits, looking down at where his hand is laying in his lap, clasped in Henke’s. He has to. “I want someone to fuck me,” he says in a rush, like he can barely get the words out fast enough. “In— In front of the others, I mean.” Henke goes very still and Willy can hear the pounding of his own heart in his ears. When Henke finally speaks, his voice sounds a bit tight.

“We can definitely make that happen. Do you want just one person, or— No, you don’t have to decide that yet, we’ll just see how it goes, yeah? I’ll take care of you.” He takes a deep breath as well, as if he has to center himself. Willy’s whole body feels hot.

“I— Yes, I want that.” He can’t look at Henke. “I just— I want you to decide, okay?” he admits, his voice quiet. “I want everything, I just don’t want to— I don’t want to have to think about it.”

“Of course,” Henke says, voice raspy. “I—” He clears his throat. “I just wanted to make sure.” His hand is still lying on Willy’s thigh, his fingers splayed across the expanse of it. Willy can feel the warmth through the thin material of his pants and wishes he had worn jeans in the same way he wishes he wasn’t wearing anything at all. He looks up again.

Henke is staring at him. His eyes are intense and Willy hadn’t noticed before how closely together they’re sitting. Henke’s eyes flicker down, and Willy automatically licks his lips without any conscious thought. Henke shakes his head and leans back a bit, clearly trying to regain his composure, and it’s...incredibly gratifying.

“Okay. I—” Henke clears his throat again. “We should talk about communication then. How you’re gonna let me know what you like and what needs to change.” Willy blinks a few times in quick succession, trying to get his mind back on planning. It’s harder than it should be. 

“Can’t I just tell you?” he suggests and Henke gives him an amused look.

“If I thought you’d be honest we could do that, but— Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m a bit worried about you trying to keep up appearances.” It’s not exactly nice to hear, but Willy tries not to take it personally. Instead, he focuses on the fact that Henke obviously cares about him. The thought makes the unpleasant tightness in his chest loosen again.

“Okay, yeah, I— I do that,” he admits, and the way Henke’s eyes soften when he smiles at him somehow makes the admission not as embarrassing. “What should we do then?”

“We should have a safeword,” Henke suggests. “And I’ll also stay close and check in with you to make sure you’re okay. Does that work for you?” Willy nods, immediately calmed by the idea of being able to talk to Henke throughout, to tell him if anything’s wrong without alerting the others.

“What do you want me to say?” Henke pauses for a moment, looking considerate. 

“How about you ask me for a glass of water if you need a break?” he suggest, “I’ll make someone get you one while you can check in with me properly. How does that sound?” Willy thinks about it for a second.

“What if I actually want some water?” he asks and Henke chuckles lightly.

“Then I’ll make someone get you a glass of water and you check in with me anyway, okay?” Willy smiles at that. 

“Sounds good.” Henke returns the smile briefly, but then it drops off his face and he moves away from Willy a bit, removing his hand from Willy’s leg and leaving behind a clear absence of warmth. “What’s wrong?” Willy asks. Henke looks serious.

“The water thing is just for checking in, yeah? You can always say no if you don’t want something. And if you want me to stop them for you, you can say something else, something like…” he trails off, looking around the room, but doesn’t seem to find anything.

“How about I say your name?” Willy suggest. Henke’s brows furrow, but before he can interject, Willy continues, “Henrik, I mean. Not Henke. I never call you that, but I don’t think the others would know.”

“Perfect,” Henke confirms, smile returning to his face. “Do you have any questions? Anything else you’d like to know beforehand?”

Willy tries to think about it for a moment, but the impatient buzzing in his body doesn’t really let him. He just shakes his head. Henke looks skeptical, but he apparently can’t think of anything else either.

“Alright. How about you get comfortable then and I call in the others?” Willy closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

————— 

Willy is lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard on some pillows, when the first knock on the door sounds through the room. Henke gives him a questioning look, but gets up and off the bed to open the door when Willy nods. Eddie is first, pushing past Henke to walk into the middle of the room and eye Willy with a big grin.

“That took so long, I thought Henke was gonna keep you all to himself again,” he teases, and Willy feels the tense muscles in his back relax as he sinks back into the pillows. He sprawls, making his pose inviting and open, trying to shake off his nerves. 

“Maybe I don’t want to be only with him,” he responds with a smirk. Eddie returns it and starts coming closer, but before he even reaches the edge of the bed, Henke makes a disapproving noise. Eddie pauses and sends Willy an apologetic look, shrugging his shoulders. 

Henke climbs back on the bed and settles as a warm, steady presence against Willy’s side. He automatically leans into him, and Henke slings an arm around his shoulders, pulling him even closer. 

“Since you’re here now, Eddie, you can open the door while I keep our boy company, yeah?” Henke says, and it doesn’t sound like a question at all. Willy feels himself lean into him even more, the contact grounding him. Eddie gives a mocking bow, but does actually go to answer the door when someone knocks.

“Anything happens that you don’t want, you let me know. Like we talked about,” Henke whispers, his breath hot against Willy’s ear, and a pleasant shiver goes down his spine. He nods quickly, sitting up a bit straighter.

Eddie comes back followed by Gabe, who’s herding an embarrassed-looking Lindy along in front of him. “Trust me, this is gonna be much better than going out,” Willy hears, and feels his face going hot again. 

More people walk in, the guys already present taking turns getting the door for them. There’s a nervous murmur of quiet conversation that seems like it could snap at any second. Willy lets his gaze flicker over his teammates, lined up awkwardly along the wall opposite the bed. There’s Brods, standing off the far side, talking to a nervous-looking Joel, whose eyes keep darting over to the bed, before hurriedly returning to his conversation partner. Lindy and Gabe are also talking in hushed voices, although it looks like Gabe is doing most of the talking as Lindy stares down at the floor, turning more and more red by the minute.

Victor and Ollie are standing over by the window, while Eddie sits comfortably in the cozy armchair next to them. The last person in the room is Bill, who had given Willy a shy smile upon entering the room, but has mostly been playing with his phone ever since.

Nicky isn’t there.

Willy stretches out his leg to get into a more comfortable position. His knee bumps into Henke’s thigh and just like that, he’s suddenly aware of how close they’re pressed together, how he can feel the rhythmical, calm movement of Henke’s chest against his ribs, the comforting weight of Henke’s arm across his shoulders. He lets his finger graze against Henke’s side to get his attention. 

“Do you want to start?” Henke murmurs, his voice low and so close to Willy’s ear it makes him shiver involuntarily. Willy nods hesitantly and backs off a bit so Henke has some space to sit up and...and what, exactly? Give a speech? Welcome the others? Honestly, it all seems rather absurd.

Henke does neither of these things. Instead he pulls Willy back against his side, pulls him even closer this time, and puts a gentle hand on his chin. 

“I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he murmurs, low and intimate, and before Willy can even attempt to come up with a response, Henke pulls him into a kiss.

It’s slow and gentle, Henke’s lips moving softly against his, Henke’s hand finding its way to the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair. Willy can practically feel the tension leaving his body, all the nervousness disappearing as he forgets about other people, focuses solely on Henke in front of him.

There’s a light pressure on the back of his head, guiding him. Willy follows easily, his legs getting more tangled with Henke’s as he twists around in an attempt to get closer. Henke leans back into the pillows, briefly breaking the kiss, before pulling Willy in. Willy leaves his slightly uncomfortable contortion and crawls into Henke’s lap instead.

The new position is much better. Not only can he let Henke kiss him without straining his neck, but he can also feel his chest against his own, can feel the warmth of his skin seeping through their shirts, can put his arms around Henke’s shoulders and press their bodies together. He’s been on edge for hours, waiting for something, anything, to break the tension, and it just feels so good to finally be kissed, to be touched. 

The hand in Willy’s hair tightens. Another one falls on his lower back, pulling him closer, and suddenly Henke’s mouth on him feels hungry and urgent. Willy can’t suppress the shocked little noise that escapes him when Henke bites his lower lip. He moans at the feeling of Henke’s tongue pushing into his mouth and eagerly responds until Henke breaks the kiss, pulling away.

Willy opens his eyes. Henke’s gaze seem to linger on his lips for moment, which must look red and a bit puffy if the light tingling sensation is anything to go by. Before Willy can open his mouth and ask if he wants to go back to doing more than just looking, Henke blinks and shakes his head. His gaze drifts to somewhere over Willy’s shoulder and it’s only then that Willy notices how utterly quiet the room around them is.

“Now that I’ve gotten everyone’s attention,” Henke starts, amusement and satisfaction thick in his voice, “I think we can start this off properly.” The pressure of his hand against Willy’s hip makes Willy turn back around to face the others. They’re all, without a single exception, staring at him.

Henke wraps an arm around him and pulls him in again, so that Willy’s back rests snugly against his chest. His breath ghosts along Willy’s ear, his voice low and intimate when he asks, “So? Which one do you want to start with?” 

Willy shivers, his breath rushing out of him in a single gust, short and stuttery. He tries to get it together, but his whole body feels shaky, like he’s not quite in control of it anymore. Like he’s about to jump off the edge of a cliff or something. Before he can open his mouth and try to answer, there’s a knock. 

Everyone turns to look at the door, but nobody makes a move to open it. Henke lets out an amused little huff that Willy can feel more than he can hear it. 

“Someone get that please. We’re still missing one person,” Henke says to the room at large, but goes back to focusing on Willy as soon as Gabe starts to move. “Is there anyone who you want to go first? Who you feel most comfortable with maybe?” he asks, quiet enough that the others aren’t able to hear him.

“No, I—” Willy starts but the words die on his lips when Gabe comes back, followed closely by Nicky. “Oh,” Willy breathes out, his heart beating unnaturally fast.

Nicky looks awkward standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he can’t quite find a position that’s comfortable. He doesn’t stare at Willy, not the way the others do, just shoots a furtive glance at the bed and gives a weak smile when he catches Willy’s eye, before quickly looking back down at his feet. It hits Willy suddenly, that this is completely new for Nicky, that he’d already been in the showers when Willy had decided to undress Henke after their victory. Henke shifts behind him. 

“What about Nicky? Do you want him first?” he whispers into Willy’s ear, nonchalant, like it’s not a big deal. Like Willy hadn’t been thinking of having Nicky since they won their first game together, hadn’t been wondering how their easy chemistry and Nicky’s gentle, affectionate teasing might translate to sex. For a second, Willy considers it. Having Nicky’s hands on his body in an even more intimate way, maybe getting to kiss him. Maybe Nicky would even let Willy touch him in return and maybe if Willy did a good enough job, he could— 

Then Willy looks over. Nicky is biting his lip nervously and he’s still seemingly unable to look at Willy directly for more than a second and it’s completely unthinkable to ask for this. 

“No, please not— Someone else,” he brings out, quiet enough that no one but Henke can hear him. Henke stiffens, his muscles going rigid against Willy’s back. 

“Don’t you want him here? I can make him leave,” Henke insists, but Willy vehemently shakes his head, pressing a hand down against Henke’s thigh to keep him from getting up. 

“No, that’s not— Just—” He tries to get his thoughts in order, hesitates. “Are you sure he even wants to be here?” he finally says, cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Nicky being here out of some sense of…protectiveness? Responsibility? Willy doesn’t even want to think about it, his insides pulling together painfully the longer he considers it. The press of a soft kiss to the nape of Willy’s neck brings him out of his thoughts. 

“I’m sure he wants to be here. Really sure,” Henke assures, his voice calm and affectionate against Willy’s neck. “You want me to pick someone else for you now?” Willy nods, trying to make himself relax again, to focus on the others. It doesn’t work quite as well as he’d like.

“Bill,” Henke says, loud and clear for everyone to hear and Bill immediately straightens where he’d been casually leaning against the wall, snapping to attention. “I think you should go first.” 

It’s a strange choice, really. Willy doesn’t know Bill that well and neither does Henke, as far as Willy is aware. If Henke’s intention is to get him started with someone closer to his own age, Joel would have been the obvious choice, or maybe Lindy. Willy doesn’t really have time to linger on the thought when Bill climbs onto the bed, kneeling in the center.

“Hey Willy,” he says, smile on his face bright and inviting. Willy can’t really help but return it. “You know, I’ve been excited about this since Henke called me. Especially after seeing what you did for him in the locker room. I’ve been thinking about what I want to do with you all day.” It’s a casual admission, but it still sends a warm rush through Willy’s body. “Come here.” 

Bill gestures for Willy to join him and Willy moves closer until they’re kneeling opposite each other in the middle of the generous bed. The position doesn’t really work if Bill wants Willy to blow him like he had Henke, and Willy is about to point that out when Bill puts a calloused hand against his cheek and kisses him. He doesn’t start off gentle like Henke had, instead he presses his lips to Willy’s with clear purpose and a good amount of pressure. 

Willy’s eyes fall shut instinctively as he tries not to get swept up in the kiss, and his breath catches when Bill’s stubble rasps against the soft skin around his mouth. Bill seems to notice and pulls away a bit, staying close enough that Willy can still feel his breath against his face. He lets out a brief laugh, low and satisfied. 

“Sorry about that. Wenny’s really into the scruff and I’m gonna see him tomorrow so I didn’t shave today.” Willy’s eyes fly open in shock, and he’s about to push Bill away when he adds, “He says hi, by the way. So disappointed that he’s missing out on this.” Something that might be sadness flickers across his face briefly, but then it’s gone, and he goes back to smirking at Willy. “Do you mind if I tell him about this? In detail, I mean. I know he’d love to hear all about it.”

Willy feels a shiver run through his body. All day he’d been thinking of nameless teammates touching him, their hands on his skin, their mouths, the way another hand on his dick would feel with everyone’s eyes on him. He’d thought he was prepared for it, but for some reason just hearing Bill talk is already making him lose his composure. 

The idea of Bill telling his boyfriend what it had been like to kiss Willy, to have him underneath his body, telling him what it had been like to fuck Willy, if that’s what Henke has planned for them, is overwhelming. Another part of his mind can’t help picturing what it would be like to have Wenny here as well, to have them both on the bed here with him at the same time, one of them holding him down while the other pushes into him. His throat feels dry.

Bill’s thoughts must have taken a similar route. There’s heat in his eyes when he reaches up to gently stroke along Willy’s cheek.

“You two would have made such a pretty picture,” he says, sounding a bit breathless. Willy swallows and shakes his head to clear his mind. Bill frowns at him, taking away his hand, and leaving Willy a little off-balance before he realizes what’s going on. 

“You can tell him,” Willy says, and coughs when his voice comes out sounding hoarse. “I mean, you should. If you’d like.” Bill smiles at him again, a playful glint in his eyes this time. 

“I will. He’s gonna love it.” 

And then his lips are on Willy’s again, demanding and hot and perfect. Willy melts into it, letting out a quiet moan when Bill licks into his mouth. There’s a hand sneaking underneath his shirt, stroking along his side, making him tremble. A light pressure against his sternum makes him lean back, and Bill follows him down without breaking the kiss until he’s braced above Willy, their legs tangled up.

Willy’s body feels hot. There’s an awareness in the back of his mind that he should be putting on a show, that he’s being watched and should give the others something to see, but the thought alone is already so overwhelming. He grabs at Bill, a hand in his hair to pull him even closer, tries to wrap one of his legs around Bill’s hip to grind up against him. Bill growls and pushes Willy more firmly down into the sheets, pressing his thumb into the edge of Willy’s jaw to get him to open his mouth wider. Willy’s dick twitches in his shorts and he moans into their kiss, muffled as he stops trying to move. There’s enough give to Bill’s hold on him that he could easily get away if he tried, but the way Bill is pressing him down makes him feel helpless in the best way, and he doesn’t struggle. 

He makes a sound of protest when Bill lets up and separates from him. He tries to follow, but Bill just pushes him down with a firm hand in the middle of his chest. Willy goes still under his gaze when his eyes wander over Willy’s face, lingering on his mouth. He only now becomes aware of the prickling sensation around his lips, wants to reach up and touch the hot skin. He’s starting to get why Wenny’s into the stubble. He can’t help but wonder if he’ll feel this throughout the evening, if he’ll be reminded of Bill when someone else kisses him later, if he’ll still feel the light pinpricks of it when his mouth is stretched wide around someone else’s dick. 

“That’s a good look for you,” Bill says, eyes dark and appreciative as he presses a finger to the reddened skin. The prickling abates with the pressure, but returns as soon as Bill eases up. He does it again and Willy catches the tip of his thumb with his mouth, flicks his tongue against the rough skin before releasing it. 

Bill’s breath catches and he withdraws his hand. Willy’s starkly reminded of Bill’s other hand underneath his shirt when it moves down to his stomach, making him gasp as Bill’s nails rake across the tense muscles there. Bill’s fingers come to rest on his hip bone and Willy holds his breath while he waits for Bill’s hand to move further down, but Bill just leaves it there.

“Do you mind if I take your shirt off?” Bill asks, absentmindedly stroking the sensitive skin on Willy’s hip, making it hard to answer. Willy wordlessly sits up to give him better access, and Bill unceremoniously grabs the hem of Willy’s shirt, pulling it over his head with a carelessness that borders on impatience. “That’s much better,” he declares, taking in Willy’s body laid out before him. 

The hotel room isn’t particularly warm, something he’ll probably be thankful for later, and the cold air still makes his skin break out in goosebumps. He wants to tell Bill to hurry up but something stops him. Bill obviously likes taking his time and that’s— Willy can give him that. He can stay still for a bit and show everyone how good he can be. He stretches his left arm out above his head, opening up his body more and putting himself on display. 

Bill just looks at him for a long moment before he leans back down to kiss him again. It’s gentler this time, and Willy tries to grab for Bill’s hair with his right hand so he can deepen the kiss. Instead Bill catches his wrist and pins it down on the mattress next to his other one.

“Stay like this, okay?” he says, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He ducks his head to press his lips to Willy’s neck, and the soft pressure of his mouth against the sharp rasp of his beard creates a sensation that makes Willy squirm, both in an attempt to get away and push closer at the same time. 

He hadn’t noticed that he’d started restlessly moving his hips against the mattress until Bill’s hands still them effortlessly. He makes a sound that’s way too close to a whine and there’s a gust of hot breath against his throat when Bill laughs.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t tease you so much,” Bill mumbles into his ear, even as he starts nibbling on Willy’s earlobe. Another shudder goes through Willy’s body and he’s panting now, his breath coming quick and his chest moving with the effort. Bill hasn’t even touched him that much, hasn’t even taken his pants off and he certainly hasn’t touched Willy’s dick, but Willy is having trouble remembering the last time he was this desperate.

Bill moves again, abandoning Willy’s neck to trace a row of kisses down his chest instead, along his sternum. He pauses for a second, just enough that Willy misses the contact, and then moves his head to close his lips around Willy’s nipple. Willy’s whole body twitches and he makes an embarrassing sound. He can’t help it, he’s so sensitive already from just that bit of touch that it feels like Bill might as well be sucking his dick.

Bill makes a pleased sound at his reaction and switches over to Willy’s other nipple, but quickly moves on, downward, and Willy holds completely still. Bill licks at his abs, which jump helplessly under the attention, then pauses, his lips hovering not even an inch above Willy’s skin, strands of his newly grown-out hair brushing lightly against Willy’s stomach, his thumbs rubbing Willy’s hip bones soothingly. Willy holds his breath. 

Bill lowers his head and slowly, deliberately licks one long line just along the edge of Willy’s sweatpants. Willy whimpers. It’s not— It shouldn’t be this hot. Bill’s only the first one touching him tonight, and he should try to keep some sort of composure, but it’s impossible. His mouth is open and he’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t care how it looks, he just wants Bill to keep going, to do more. He can’t help the small noise of protest that leaves his mouth when Bill sits up.

“I think that was enough for a warmup, don’t you think?” Bill says, sounding out of breath. There’s a flush in his cheeks and a sheen of sweat across his forehead, and there is something deeply satisfying about him looking even just a tiny bit as affected as Willy feels.

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” Willy asks eagerly, too aroused to be embarrassed, the break from Bill’s attention directing his awareness firmly to where his dick is straining against the fabric of his pants. His hands twitch above his head, the temptation to reach down and relieve some pressure almost too great, but he holds still, looking up at Bill through his eyelashes.

Bill swallows and the greedy way he looks at Willy makes him spread his legs a bit more, closing his eyes at the feeling of fabric dragging across his dick at the movement. 

“I wish I could,” Bill rasps, sounding almost wistful, and makes to get off the bed. That spurs Willy into action, and he sits up. 

“What are you doing? I thought you—” he breaks off, biting his lip, unsure of how to continue. Bill seems to understand anyway.

“Trust me, I want to, I really do. Me and Wenny have a rule about having sex without each other though, and I don’t mess with that.” He sounds genuinely regretful, and it lessens the sting of the rejection a bit. 

Willy lets himself fall back on the bed again and tries to calm his breathing to a more normal pace. He closes his eyes for a second, tries not to think about the others watching him, waiting impatiently, probably getting bored already. It doesn’t work. 

He’s too aware of how overheated his body feels, how turned on he still is from a couple of kisses and some gentle touching that Bill obviously has no problem walking away from. It makes his cheeks heat unpleasantly, hot shame slowly crawling its way through his body, when he thinks about the others seeing him like this, seeing how fucking easy he was for Bill and— 

Something brushes lightly against his arm and he turns his head to find Henke giving him a concerned look.

“Bill, get him some water, yeah?” It’s not a question, not even really a suggestion, judging by Henke’s tone, and Bill gets up immediately. He throws Willy another apologetic look and bites his lip, before heading to the mini fridge set up on the other side of the room.

“Are you okay? Do you need a break?” Henke asks, his voice low enough that only Willy can hear him. Willy has to resist the urge to laugh.

“What for? I barely did anything.” It sounds petulant to his own ears and he wants to curl up and hide, but Henke’s grip around his arm stops him.

“You don’t need to do anything, this is about you. Bill just wanted to make you feel good. Do you feel good?” Henke asks and Willy shrugs.

“Sure,” he offers and it’s not a lie, but it’s not really the truth either, embarrassment still sitting at the bottom of his stomach, making him feel sour and muting the pleasure in his body, making it feel distant and unreachable. Henke’s eyes are soft.

“Hey, look at me. Come here,” he says and Willy does, purposefully not looking at the room behind them, just focused on Henke sitting in front of him at the head of the bed. Henke puts a hand on his cheek when they’re sitting close together and smiles at him. Willy opens his mouth to say something, but Henke shakes his head. 

A movement at the edge of his vision catches Willy’s attention and then Bill holds out a bottle of water for him, condensation dripping off the bottom. Henke takes the bottle with a nod of his head and cracks it open.

“Get yourself one as well, you look like you need to cool off a bit,” he orders. Bill flushes, but does as he’s told. Henke hands the bottle to Willy. “I want you to drink that and listen, okay?” In lieu of an answer Willy just raises an eyebrow and lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a sip of the cool, clear liquid. “Good,” Henke says with a smile, then raises his voice. “Hey Eddie? How do you feel about going next?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Can I?” comes the instant response, and Willy turns around. Eddie is sitting on the edge of the cozy armchair, legs spread just like how Willy remembers from the locker room, to accommodate the bulge in his pants that he’s palming with one hand. The way he’s looking at Willy is bordering on hungry, and Willy feels his breath catch in anticipation. Henke makes a considering noise.

“Maybe. Ollie, how about you?” Ollie straightens up where he’d been leaning against the wall, ignoring Eddie’s affronted noise of protest.

“I’d love to. Do I actually get to touch his dick though? Or my own, for that matter? Cause I don’t think I quite have Bill’s restraint,” he says, winking at Bill, who only grimaces and reaches down to adjust himself before taking another sip of his water bottle.

“Maybe if you do a good enough job,” Henke teases and Willy feels the last bits of tension drip off him. He puts down his bottle and grins.

“Maybe if you ask real nicely,” he jokes, and Henke gives him an approving smile.

“I can do that,” Eddie promises right away, looking even more eager now. “I’m so not above begging if that’s your thing.” Willy lets the image wash over him. Eddie on his knees in front of him, asking to touch Willy with large, desperate eyes, begging to be allowed to make him come. Willy takes another large sip of his drink. Henke hums thoughtfully.

"Gabbe, what about you?" he asks, turning his attention over to where Gabe and Lindy are standing, pressed close together. Eddie visibly deflates. Gabe looks surprised, but nods happily.

"Oh, yeah, definitely," he says, detaching himself from Lindy. Willy can see a dark spot on the side of Lindy's neck, which Willy is pretty sure hadn't been there when he walked into the room. "What do you want me to do?" Gabe sounds eager, and Lindy shifts uneasily next to him, obviously unhappy to be left alone.

"I think you should stay with your own boy for now," Henke says, eyebrow raised and Gabe's attention jumps back to Lindy, whose cheeks are turning red. Willy watches them curiously until Henke lightly taps his arm. "Do you have any preferences?" Willy shakes his head, taking a quick glance at the room. 

"I don't care, you choose," Willy settles on, turning back to Henke. He considers that for a second, looking around the room as well, before he seems to settle on something.

"Alright. Go sit on the edge of the bed," he orders and Willy complies without hesitation, coming to rest with his back to Henke, facing the room, his feet planted on the floor. He leans back on his hands and takes in his teammates in front of him.

Eddie's still staring at him, hands restlessly rubbing over his thighs now. Ollie and Victor are leaning against the wall by the window, looking relaxed but eager. Gabe and Lindy are making eyes at each other, strangely shy now for all that they had apparently been making out while Willy had been busy with Bill. 

Bill is standing next to the mini fridge, bottle of water still in his hand, periodically sipping from it. Next to him is Nicky. He briefly meets Willy's eyes when he looks over, but then quickly looks away. His face is slightly pink, but Willy can't tell whether it's from embarrassment at being a part of this, or because he's turned on as well. Or maybe a mix of the two. He still doesn’t look comfortable though, his shoulders a hard, rigid line under the soft fabric of his shirt, and Willy‘s stomach twists. He hastily looks away. 

Brods and Joel are looking at him as well, and Brods gives him a grin when he catches Willy's eyes, while Joel hastily looks down at the floor, burning red ears visible under the brim of his snapback.

"Eddie," Henke calls and Eddie snaps to attention immediately. "Why don't you help Willy get out of his clothes?" Eddie is on his feet in an instant and it only takes a few quick steps until he's standing in front of Willy. He's reaching out for the edge of Willy's sweatpants when Henke clicks his tongue in disapproval and he freezes. 

"You can't just grab him, Eddie, that's really rude," Henke says, his tone reproachful. "Willy deserves better, don't you think?" Eddie ducks his head, and seems to consider that for a second before he drops to his knees. Willy's breath catches.

"Can I take your clothes off?" Eddie asks, looking at Willy from underneath his eyelashes. "Please." The image in front of Willy is even better than what he had imagined before. He hadn't really accounted for the deferential way Eddie would hunch his shoulders, making himself seem smaller, the way his eyes would look more black than brown with how dilated his pupils are. 

"Go ahead," Willy breathes out, and Eddie makes a pleased noise before carefully settling his hands on Willy's hips. They look large against Willy's sides and Willy has a moment where he wishes Eddie would grip him harder, press in with his fingers so Willy could feel it properly. Eddie doesn't though. He barely touches Willy's skin, grabbing the edge of his sweatpants and pulling them down as Willy lifts his hips. 

Eddie carefully slips them off Willy's legs and over each foot, leaving Willy sitting in his briefs in the cool room. Willy's still at least half hard, his dick tenting the soft material, and there's a dark, wet patch where some of his precome had soaked into the fabric. Heat rushes to his cheeks. 

"Looks like Bill did a good job," Henke says from behind him, closer than Willy had expected him, and he jolts, drawing Eddie's attention away from where he's still fiddling with the sweatpants. Eddie's gaze lands on Willy's crotch, his mouth falls open, and he makes a noise that sounds a lot like a whimper. Henke laughs, low and amused. Willy's stomach drops pleasantly. "Go ahead, ask him," Henke encourages and it takes a second for Willy to understand that he's talking to Eddie.

Eddie swallows. "Please, can I?" he gets out.

"Can you what?" Willy asks, even though it doesn't matter, even though he's happy to let Eddie do whatever he wants.

"Can I take your briefs off? I really wanna blow you," Eddie breathes out in a rush, his eyes flickering back and forth between Willy's face and his hard dick. Willy is about to agree, to tell him to go ahead, but Henke hums behind him and wraps an arm around Willy's stomach. 

"I don't know. I don't think you've earned that yet," Henke muses and Eddie's face falls.

"Please," he begs, his voice strained, his shoulders tense. "Just let me— I'll be good, I promise," he assures Willy, his eyes still huge, and it's gratifying that he's asking Willy when Henke is so clearly the one calling the shots. 

"Show me," Willy says on an impulse, and Eddie's breath rushes out of him. Without any further words he leans forward and runs his tongue across the strained fabric of Willy's briefs. Willy whimpers at the sensation, at the way the wet fabric catches against the head of his dick is a sharp mix of pleasure and pain. Encouraged by his reaction, Eddie starts sucking his dick through the thin material and Willy moans, very glad that Henke is holding him up. 

Willy doesn't notice that one of his hands has wandered into Eddie's hair until he tightens his fingers on the next drag of his tongue, and Eddie makes a pleased, whiny noise. He does it again and Eddie pulls off, panting harshly.

"Please, I— I wanna do this properly," he pleads, as Willy tries to get some of his bearings back. 

"Alright," Willy permits, his voice breathy, "take them off." Eddie complies instantly, barely bothering to pull Willy's underwear down his thighs before he dives back in. Or tries to, anyway, but Willy tugs at his hair again and he stops moving immediately with a low whine.

"Do it properly," Willy orders. He's not sure where the sudden desire to tease, to string Eddie along for a bit comes from, but Henke is still sitting behind him, his hand softly stroking across Willy's abs, so it's probably safe to assume he's doing okay. 

"Hm, that was quite sloppy, wasn't it?" Henke asks, and Eddie turns huge, pleading eyes to him instead. Willy's skin is tingling, his head rushing. 

"Right," he agrees, leaning further into Henke. Eddie shifts nervously on his knees.

"See, I have a different idea," Henke murmurs into Willy's ear. "Go ahead and touch yourself. However you like. Eddie, you stay where you are," he commands, and Willy almost chokes on the breath he sucks in too quickly. Eddie's mouth drops open again and he looks almost hurt. He makes a small noise when Willy lets go of his hair. Eddie's attention and Henke's presence had definitely been enough to get Willy all the way hard again and he breathes out a sigh of relief when he finally closes his hand around his dick.

"Good, you look gorgeous like that," Henke murmurs, rubbing the tip of his thumb along Willy's hip. Willy shivers, the tiny point of contact feeling unusually intense. Slowly he starts moving his hand, grip not as firm as he usually likes when he jerks himself off. This isn't about getting off, it's not even completely about making himself feel good. He opens his eyes, unaware of when he'd closed them in the first place, and looks at Eddie in front of him.

Eddie's biting his lip in a way that looks painful, his eyes are glued to where Willy's hand is slowly moving on his dick. He makes a pained noise when he sees Willy looking at him. 

"Please," he says again and Willy instinctively grips himself tighter, letting out a little moan at the sensation. 

"Look, how much he likes looking at you," Henke says, "look how badly he wants to touch you. Make him say please again," he whispers into Willy's ear, and Willy's hand stutters before continuing in the same slow rhythm. 

"Ask me again," he pants out, "like you mean it." Eddie's eyes are huge, and there's a deep flush in his cheeks when he looks at Willy. 

"Please, Willy," he begs, his voice fervent. "Please, can I blow you? I promise I'll make it good."

A shudder goes through Willy’s body and he squeezes the base of dick to lessen the urgency a bit.

“Was that good enough?” Henke asks and Willy nods.

“Yeah, I think so,” he manages, his voice shaking slightly, and Eddie looks so hopeful he almost feels bad for keeping him waiting so long.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, but before he can move Henke stops him. 

“Alright, but don’t use your hands. We’ll see if you earn that privilege. And don’t touch yourself either.” Eddie swallows, and his shoulders straighten as if to steel himself, but he nods. He hesitates for a moment, before deliberately moving his hands behind his back. Henke chuckles. “Good. You can start now.”

Eddie shoots him another grateful look and finally leans forward. His breath gusts over the head of Willy’s dick, and Willy closes his eyes. It’s almost too much after the way he’d been teasing himself, but the wet heat of Eddie’s mouth feels so good. He lets out a low moan as his head drops back against Henke’s shoulder, grateful he has someone to lean on.

Eddie’s lips brush against the edge of Willy’s fist and he opens his eyes again, watching as Eddie slides down even further when he takes his hand away from the base of his dick. He starts up a fast, sloppy pace, and Willy can feel his throat close lightly around the tip whenever he goes all the way down. Willy moans again and grabs for Eddie’s hair.

“Slow down,” he hisses, and Eddie whimpers as Willy tightens his fingers, the vibrations against Willy’s dick making his stomach contract, already close to the edge. Eddie slows down, but his movements become more deliberate, and Willy’s breath stutters when Eddie purposely drags his tongue along the vein at the underside of his dick. 

“Tell me when you’re close,” Henke whispers into his ear, making Willy shudder. It’s so much sensation, having Eddie expertly sucking his dick while Henke is pressed to his back, and he can’t even imagine what he must look like to the others.

“I’m close now,” he gets out between breaths, and Henke hums.

“Good. Do you want to come in his mouth?” Henke asks, loud enough that Eddie can clearly hear him as well. He whines and renews his efforts, trying to pick up the pace again until Willy pulls at his hair. Henke lets out a low laugh. “Or maybe you could wait a bit longer.” He takes a look around the room and Willy tugs at Eddie’s hair again, stilling his movement completely. 

“What— What do you mean?” Willy gets out, the sensation of Eddie’s mouth around his dick too distracting for anything more coherent, even without him moving.

“I was thinking, wouldn’t you like to come while someone’s fucking you?” Henke muses and Willy gasps, a shiver going through his body. “Of course, you could just take the edge off now. We have plenty of time for you to come on someone’s cock later, but I was just wondering…”

Eddie nearly chokes when Willy’s hand tightens again, but Willy barely notices. If he’s being honest with himself, he’d expected to have at least one of the guys inside him at this point of the evening, pushing into him and making his body light up with every thrust, making him lose his mind. He can feel the phantom sensation just thinking about it and clenches down on nothing. Suddenly he doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

“I— Yeah,” is all he manages, but Henke seems to get it anyway, because he reaches around Willy, replacing Willy’s slack hand in Eddie’s hair with his own, pulling him off Willy’s dick gently. Eddie pants, mouth open and red as he looks up at Willy with big, wet eyes.

“Well done, Eddie,” Henke praises softly, and a shudder goes through Eddie’s body. “Now, I need you wait there while we get our boy ready, yeah? Don’t move your hands.” Eddie swallows, but doesn’t protest, and Willy can see the muscles in his arms flex as he tightens the hands behind his back and nods. 

Willy’s panting as well, his breath leaving his mouth in quick gusts, and he’s slowly becoming aware that he’s now sitting naked in a room full of his very much still fully dressed teammates, his dick hard and leaking, slick with Eddie’s spit. Henke tugs at his arm and Willy turns toward him.

“Come here and lie down,” Henke instructs and Willy pushes himself to the middle of the bed, hesitating for a second before lying down on his back, balanced on his elbows so he can still see what’s going on. 

“So, who wants to help?” Henke asks, immediately getting everyone’s attention. Ollie innocently raises his hand and a couple of the others follow suit, making Henke laugh. It sends another rush of warmth through Willy and he’s not entirely sure why.

“That was a rhetorical question, but nice try.” Henke looks back and forth between the other for a while before finally settling on someone. “Elias, come here.”

Lindy looks as surprised as Willy feels, but he hastily climbs on the bed where he settles sort of uselessly next to Willy’s knee. His eyes fly over Willy’s body, lingering on Willy’s hard dick for a second longer than the rest and Willy instinctively shifts his hips a bit. Lindy turns to look at Henke with an unsure look on his face.

Henke isn’t paying them any attention. He’s rummaging around in the nightstand until he finds what he’s looking for and tosses a small bottle of lube to Lindy. He catches it easily, but then freezes, his face turning an attractive shade of red. 

“Do you want me to just…” he starts, vaguely gesturing to Willy without really looking at him. Henke smiles indulgently. 

“Well, you could at least kiss him first, but that’s really up to you,” he teases gently and Lindy turns even redder. He hastily crawls up the bed and Willy leans up to meet him. The way Lindy kisses him is much more hesitant than either Bill or Henke had been, his hand fluttering uncertainly around Willy’s shoulder, unable to settle down. His lips shake lightly when they touch Willy’s for the first time. 

He’s nervous, Willy realizes with a swell of affection. Nervous about participating, about being put on display in this way, and Willy suddenly clearly remembers how flustered he’d looked when he’d first come into the room. Still, he seems more unsure than anything else, like he’s asking for permission, afraid of overstepping some boundary, and Willy can fix that. 

He buries a hand in Lindy’s hair and deepens the kiss, angling his head in a way that suits him best. Lindy’s hands settle somewhat uselessly on his shoulder, but he’s still hovering awkwardly next to Willy’s body and the position is getting increasingly more uncomfortable by the second. Willy puts a hand on his chest and pushes, and Lindy backs off instantly. Before he has a chance to ask what’s wrong, Willy starts tugging at the bottom of his shirt. 

“Get that off,” he demands and Lindy complies instantly. As soon as the shirt is gone Willy presses him down on his back and climbs on top of him, dragging him up into another kiss with a hand on his neck. 

“Come on, touch me properly,” he murmurs when he briefly pulls away, and takes one of Lindy’s hands, positioning it on his lower back, just above the swell of his ass. Lindy finally seems to get with the program, because his fingers tighten and he pulls Willy closer, making a pleased, startled noise when Willy’s dick brushes against his abs. 

Willy moans and that seems to encourage Lindy further, because he drags him in even closer, giving him something to grind down against, which Willy happily does. He finds Lindy’s other hand, still clutching the bottle of lube, and pries his fingers loose, letting the bottle fall uselessly to the bed. 

“Want you to touch me first,” he breathes out and Lindy is happy to oblige him, his free hand caressing Willy’s body, starting at his shoulder and wandering all the way down to settle firmly on his ass.

They keep kissing like that, Lindy’s mouth moving against his, hands wandering over Willy’s body while Willy rocks down against him, soft moans and the sound of skin moving against skin between them. It’s Willy who breaks the kiss once more, pulling back to pant harshly into Lindy’s ear. 

“Okay,” he breathes out, “You wanna give them a show? Wanna show Gabe what he’s missing?” He says it low enough that the others can’t possibly hear them but Lindy’s ears turn a lovely, bright pink anyway. 

“Gabe doesn’t— I mean—” he stutters out. “We’re here for you,” he settles on and Willy gives him an incredulous look. 

“Yeah, you’re both here to watch me get fucked, but afterwards you have all his attention. You kinda do already, actually.” Lindy glances over Willy’s shoulder, but Willy grabs his hair and turns his head back towards him. “So, do you wanna make this good?” Willy asks and instantly gets a nod in response.

“What are you two whispering about?” Henke’s amused voice comes from somewhere to Willy’s left and he turns to look at him with a grin that’s mostly teeth.

“Oh, I’m just telling Lindy how I like to be fingered,” he says casually, and someone behind him swears loudly. Henke’s eyes are dark and intense when they meet his own and it’s like he can’t look at anything else. 

“Good,” Henke says, “you should get whatever you want today. Do you wanna get on with it?” He holds the lube out to Willy, picking it up from where it had almost rolled to the floor. Willy takes it and flips open the cap. He hands it to Lindy, who squeezes some of it into his hand and spreads it across his fingers. Willy’s mouth goes dry while he watches him do it, and he quickly distracts himself by sucking on Lindy’s neck instead, letting his tongue drag over the sensitive skin in intervals, so he doesn’t have to think about what comes next. 

“Do you— Uhm, like this?” Lindy asks, voice hoarse and Willy nods. Lindy’s hand feels hot where it settles on his hip to hold him still, and Lindy’s body underneath his is tense with anticipation. Even though he’s expecting it, he still twitches at the first touch of Lindy’s cold fingers against his hole. Lindy doesn’t start right away, teasingly tapping against the tight muscle a couple of times first, and Willy can’t suppress the noise that escapes him at that.

Lindy’s other hand shifts and he’s grabbing Willy’s ass instead of his hips now, spreading his cheeks to give himself better access. Willy hears someone draw in a harsh breath behind him and heat rushes to his face when he thinks about what he must look like, still perched on top of Lindy, spread open and on display for all of them to see. He doesn’t have time to think about it for long, because Lindy finally slides his first finger in and the sudden stretch makes him inhale sharply. 

Instinctively he pushes back against the feeling, Lindy’s finger slipping further in, and his mouth opens on a breathless groan, his breath fanning wetly against Lindy’s collarbone. Lindy starts thrusting into him and the pressure in the pit of his stomach begins to grow again when Lindy starts moving inside him in a nice, fast rhythm. 

Willy gives up on trying to kiss Lindy’s neck and just lets his head fall against his shoulder, moaning when Lindy pushes a second finger into him. He’s just starting to enjoy it properly, hips rocking back into every thrust, when Lindy suddenly pulls out. Willy whines at the loss, a low and needy sound, before he gets himself back under control enough to lift his head. 

“Sorry,” Lindy pants, his face flushed and his pupils huge, “but can you maybe lie down again? This angle is really fucking up my wrist.” He looks very apologetic and it’s honestly really cute. Willy can’t help but lean down one more time, licking a line along his jaw teasingly, before rolling off him with a quick movement. He looks up and freezes. 

Eddie is the first to catch his attention, still kneeling on the floor with his hands held firmly behind his back. His mouth is open and he looks almost dazed, lower lip red and raw like he’d been biting it, and his hair is even more of a mess, as if someone had run their hand through it. Henke is sitting on the edge of the bed, close to him, but he’s completely turned towards Willy, a hand gripping the bed sheets the only thing betraying the tension in his body. 

Willy wants to look at the others. He can see them staring at him in his periphery, but before he can work up the nerve to look properly, Lindy appears in his field of vision, effectively blocking them out. 

“Can I keep going?” he asks and Willy nods, letting his head fall back against the sheets. He tries to relax, even though he feels like there’s an electric current running through his body, like every single one of his nerve endings are on fire.

Lindy puts a hand on his ankle and gives a little push that Willy takes as his cue to lift his leg, knee bent, with his foot planted firmly on the mattress. He does the same with his other without being prompted, and stares up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. He feels exposed, like this, more than he had in the other position, even though it’s irrational. The sheets feel too warm against his back and he can’t see the others but he knows they’re there. It’s distracting, but it doesn’t stop his thoughts from spinning in circles.

His body jerks when Lindy pushes back in, and Willy bites his lip to stop himself from making a noise, trying to hold still. He feels broken open somehow and he doesn’t even know why, doesn’t want anyone to see. The bed dips next to him and a hand brushes through his hair. 

“You’re okay?” Henke asks, looking down at him with concerned eyes. Henke’s hand is a cool, stable pressure against his head and it’s good. It’s grounding, in a way. He nods quickly, giving Henke a grateful smile. “Do you want some water or something?” Henke asks, still looking worried. Willy shakes his head.

“I’m good, I— This is good,” he says, fanning out his fingers against the sheets, feeling the soft fabric. His breathing calms, and it’s only then that he notices that Lindy had stopped moving his fingers. He’s frozen next to Willy’s drawn up knees, eyes wide. Willy’s cheeks feel hot. “You can keep going,” he instructs, and Lindy blinks once before complying.

The sudden return of the sensation of Lindy’s fingers moving inside him is intense, knocking a stuttering breath out of Willy when Lindy gets it just right. Willy squeezes his eyes shut, tightening his fingers around the sheets, on the next stroke.

Lindy’s moving slowly, carefully, like he’s not quite sure how to deal with Willy’s strange momentary lapse in participation. Willy makes a breathy sound the next time Lindy pushes in, and rocks his hips with the movements, pushing back against him and making pleased encouraging noises. 

Willy gets lost in it as Lindy gets more confident, more sure. It’s only when the comforting weight on his head leaves him that he opens his eyes again.

“That’s enough, I think,” Henke’s voice says and Lindy stops moving. A moment later his fingers disappear, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead he gently runs a hand along Willy’s thigh as if to make sure he’s okay. Willy just lies there for a moment, sucking in deep gulps of air as his awareness of his surroundings returns to him. He shivers, letting one leg drop back down to the mattress, marvelling at the sticky, wet feeling in his ass, before sitting up.

Lindy smiles at him, still a bit shy despite everything, and presses a small kiss on the inside of Willy’s knee. A soft, warm feeling blooms in Willy’s chest.

“Thank you,” Lindy says, voice shockingly sincere. He brushes his hand along Willy’s leg one more time and climbs off the bed before Willy has the chance to ask him what for. 

“So, who do you want?” Henke asks, successfully bringing him back to reality. It’s a loaded question and more than Willy can handle, if he’s being honest with himself. He gives Henke a helpless look, silently begging him to get it. Henke catches his eye and his face seems to harden for a second, expression losing all of the playfulness that he’d carried the whole evening, but then his features smooth out again and the corner of his mouth lifts upwards.

“Let’s see,” Henke continues, as if he had meant to keep talking all along, leaning closer, so that Willy can feel the heat of his body against his side. “Who do you think deserves to have you first? Who would make it best for you?” he muses, and heat rushes through Willy’s body unbidden, settling in his stomach. 

“You could have one of our d-men,” he continues in a whisper, voice not carrying over the edge of the bed. “I think they’d take care of you properly. They know what they’re doing, you wouldn’t have to worry about that at all. You could just lie back and enjoy.” His voice is low and seductive and Willy feels a shiver along his spine. He consciously has to stop himself from reaching down, from trying to get himself off to the thought alone.

“Or maybe you want our rookie. I have no idea if he’d be good for you, but god is he eager.” Henke chuckles. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you and Elias, he wanted to join you so badly. Of course, neither could Gabe, but I don’t think you want him for yourself.” That makes Willy smile and he chances a look over to where Gabe his standing, surprisingly quiet, eyes fixed on Elias with an expression that’s almost reverent.

“We also have Eddie,” Henke continues. “You already know how much he wants you, but it’s up to you how much he’s allowed. We could just leave him like this for the rest of the evening, he’d also be into that.” Willy looks over to Eddie, who has his eyes closed now and seems to be breathing quite shallowly, like he’s trying to meditate or something. He’s closest to the bed and Willy isn’t entirely sure he’s far enough away to miss Henke’s words.

“And of course, there’s me,” Henke carries on and Willy’s head whips around. There’s a playful smile on Henke’s face. “What? You already know how much I want you. We can do whatever works for you. Whatever you want. You just have to choose this once.” The way he’s looking at Willy is intense, but watchful, alert. 

Willy closes his eyes and thinks about it, tries to focus on what he wants. He’s aware that Henke hadn’t listed Nicky as a possible option on purpose and a part of him is incredibly grateful. Of all the people here, he wants Nicky the most and at the same time it still feels impossible, not like something he could ever ask for.

“Eddie,” he settles on, loud enough that the others can hear him. “I want Eddie first.” The noise Eddie makes is startlingly close to a sob. Henke grins. 

“You heard him, Eddie, get up here.” Eddie almost stumbles when he gets back on his feet, moving stiffly from kneeling so long, but he manages to climb on the bed just fine. 

“Thank you,” he says, looking at Willy with large eyes. Willy feels one side of his mouth twitch upwards.

“But you don’t even know what I’m going to do with you yet,” he teases. Eddie shakes his head.

“I don’t care, I’ll do whatever you want.” It’s obvious how much he actually means it and it fills Willy with a strange sense of pride. 

“Alright. Lie down then.” Eddie complies instantly, spreading out on his back next to Willy and looking up at him hopefully. Willy lets his gaze drift over his body. Eddie is gorgeous, all long goalie limbs and hard muscle. The bulge where his dick is tenting his sweatpants also looks sizable as far as Willy can see. “Take off your clothes.”

Eddie pushes down his sweats and underwear in one go, no hesitation or shame, and it’s strangely reassuring for Willy, the nervous energy in his chest dissipating slowly. He watches the way Eddie’s abs tense when he sits up to pull his shirt off and puts a hand on the soft-looking trail of hair underneath Eddie’s navel. Eddie stops moving, holds so still he might not even be breathing, and Willy takes the moment to admire him properly. 

Eddie’s skin underneath his hand feels slick and Willy can see that he’s covered in a thin, barely-there layer of sweat. His nipples are pebbled in the cool air and Willy idly wonders if Eddie would like it if he bit them, sucking on them to sooth the sting afterwards. He doesn’t linger long though, his attention quickly shifting to Eddie’s dick, which is lying against his stomach, fully hard and leaking slightly. Willy licks his lips.

He hesitates for a moment, then crawls on top of Eddie, knees on each side of his thighs. Eddie looks up at him curiously, but his eyes fall shut and he hisses when Willy lets his hand wander downward to wrap around his dick, giving him a couple of experimental strokes. Willy watches his expression in fascination, his mouth falling open in pleasure while he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t make a noise, doesn’t even try to push up into Willy’s hand, just lets Willy do what he wants. He does look completely overwhelmed, and suddenly Willy doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

He turns to Henke, a question on his lips, but Henke is already wordlessly holding out a condom to him, his eyebrow raised. Willy nods gratefully and takes it, ripping the foil package open quickly, before slipping it on Eddie’s dick. Eddie opens his eyes, and it looks like the simple act is so taxing that Willy just has to lean down and kiss him before he does anything else. Eddie makes a surprised noise, but he eagerly opens his mouth to meet Willy’s tongue. 

Straightening up again, Willy takes a deep breath, eyes fixed on Eddie’s slack jaw, his lips shiny with spit. “Alright,” he pants out, but gets distracted staring at Eddie’s mouth before he can continue and has to lean down one more time. Eddie mewls when Willy kisses him again, hungry and eager. 

“Are you...are you okay to start?” he finally gets out when he manages to detach himself from Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie nods vigorously. Willy could keep kissing him, would love to spend some more time teasing out different reactions, learning all of Eddie’s responses, but more than that he wants to finally have someone, have Eddie, inside of him. He presses one more kiss to Eddie’s collarbone, then moves so he’s holding himself up over Eddie’s hips.

He suppresses the urge to ask again if Eddie’s ready, takes another deep breath, and grasps the base of Eddie’s dick. It takes some coordination to line himself up properly and heat creeps up his back when he doesn’t get it right away, his legs already feeling shaky from the unusual position. Eddie moans helplessly when his dick slips against Willy’s ass, but then he finally manages to sink down. 

His body puts up a bit of resistance at first, but Lindy seems to have done a good job, because he can push through it easily, sliding down onto Eddie’s dick inch by inch, until Eddie is fully inside of him. The sensation, the delicious pressure filling him up, makes him moan and he pauses just to revel in the feeling for a second. 

A gasp makes him open his eyes again, and he looks down to find Eddie clutching the sheets, trying frantically to hold still while Willy settles. 

Warmth floods Willy’s chest and he reaches out, putting a hand on Eddie’s sternum, more to be close than to balance himself, trying to find words. 

“You feel— So good,” he stammers and he’s not sure if Eddie can even hear him, but he should, should know how wonderful he’s making Willy feel as he lifts up before rocking his hips down quickly, closing his eyes to focus on the slide of Eddie’s dick inside of him, the amazing drag of it. Eddie makes another noise, even more desperate this time.

“You’re both gorgeous like that,” Henke praises from his place next to them, his hand feeling warm on the bare skin of Willy’s thigh, more so than when he’d felt it through his sweatpants before. It makes a pleasant shiver run down Willy’s spine at the reminder of their audience. He shifts his hips, trying to find a better angle, and grinds down with more force when he finds it. Eddie makes that desperate noise again. “Eddie, don’t come before he does,” Henke orders, and Eddie whimpers, tense muscles trembling underneath Willy.

“Don’t worry, it’s not gonna take long,” Willy gasps out, his thighs already starting to shake from exertion as well as from the pleasure that’s crawling up his spine. 

“Fuck, is he— I mean, are you gonna come like that?” a voice Willy doesn’t immediately recognize asks from behind him, and he shakes his head, too preoccupied to respond properly, even as the idea alone sends another shiver through his body. 

He sinks down hard, feeling Eddie inside him even deeper than before. Sweat drips off his forehead, and his hand on Eddie’s chest slips, making him almost lose his balance and fall forward. He doesn’t care. A familiar pressure is building in the pit of his stomach and he can’t wait any longer. It’s such a relief when he finally wraps a hand around his dick that he almost feels dizzy with it. He doesn’t even try to draw it out, to put on a show and tease his audience, none of them matter anymore. He jerks off like he does when he’s alone, quick, firm strokes in the same rhythm he’s still riding Eddie. 

His breath is coming too fast and he feels something building inside of him, like he’s about to fall apart. He clenches down and Eddie makes a desperate noise. Willy can actually feel his dick twitch inside him and that’s enough.

It feels like a wave crashing over his head and dragging him under. For a moment he can’t focus on anything at all, just lets it wash over him, rides it out. He doesn’t have enough strength to properly push himself up anymore, just grinding down on Eddie instead. He distantly realizes that Eddie comes too, feels his dick pulsing in his ass as he does, a strange sensation that makes him shudder.

It takes a surprising amount of effort not to simply collapse on top of Eddie, but he manages, holding himself up with a hand on Eddie’s chest again as he comes down. He doesn’t even notice that his hips are still moving through the aftershocks until Eddie makes a pained noise. He pulls off with a gasp and rolls to the side. 

The sheets feel cool against his back and he’s breathing so hard he’s panting. It’s only now that the insistent pressure inside of him is gone that he notices how sensitive he is. His nerves are on high alert, overstimulated, like he could shake apart at the slightest touch. There’s a pleasant ache in his body, and his face heats as he suppresses the urge to reach down and touch his hole, see if he can still feel the stretch with his fingers, maybe recreate it. 

He closes his legs almost reflexively, then stretches them out, enjoying the burn in his trembling thighs. He feels sort of used, but in a good way, like he does when he pushes his body to its limits. There’s the typical bone-deep satisfaction running through him that he associates with really good sex, but at the same time he doesn’t feel calm or tired like he usually would. 

He shifts on the bed, even as he’s trying to catch his breath, a strange restlessness taking hold of him. He’s still keyed-up, maybe even more so than before, like he’d barely scratched an itch and made it even worse, even more insistent, somehow. A warm hand slides against his side. 

“Hey,” Henke says, voice soft as he looks down at him. “How are you doing?” Willy tries to pull himself together and smiles up at him. 

“I feel great.” Henke returns it easily.

“Good. Mind if I clean you up a bit? You’re kind of a mess.” He truly is. His whole stomach is sticky, the pull against his skin uncomfortable as he moves, and he’s pretty sure some of it even splashed up to his chest with how hard he’d come. The rest of him is covered in sweat, drying slowly in the hotel air, making him feel clammy and a bit gross. The bed moves as Henke gets up and Willy turns to his side, letting his cheek rest against the soft bedding beneath him.

Eddie’s still lying flat on his back, taking in deep breaths with his eyes closed. There are tear tracks on his cheeks and Willy instinctively reaches out to grab his hand. Eddie’s eyes snap open to look at him at the contact, a bright smile breaking out across his face, but Willy has to ask anyway.

“Are you okay?” Eddie's smile brightens even more, his eyes taking on a sleepy quality. He hums.

“Yeah, I feel great. That was awesome.” Something in his expression changes and now he’s almost leering at Willy. “Who knew you had that in you though,” he muses, grin wide on his lips. Willy’s face feels hot again and he stretches out his arms restlessly just to have something to do. He’s becoming increasingly aware of the backdrop of other people in the room, but doesn’t feel quite ready to fully address that thought yet. Eddie exhales slowly and shuffles around, his legs brushing against Willy’s and the contact feels inexplicably good. 

Before Willy can find the right words to say to that, to say anything really, Henke returns. He gently touches a wet washcloth to Willy’s stomach and Willy flinches at the contact, his body still on high alert. Henke hesitates and gives him a concerned look, but Willy just shakes his head. 

“I’m just…” He trails off. _Sensitive_ would be the right word, probably, but that doesn’t quite sound right in his head. Too fragile somehow, but also not nearly strong enough for the current that’s running underneath his skin. 

“You don’t even know what you looked like, do you?” Henke says, cleaning up Willy’s stomach and chest with sure but soft strokes, the warm wetness feeling nice against his skin. “Fuck, I already knew you look gorgeous when you come, but seeing you ride Eddie like that, using him for your own pleasure— You’re beautiful, you know that? And you did so well. Gave everyone just what they came for, and more than that.” His voice is hushed, like he’s just talking to Willy alone, and his words are sweet, but they don’t have the same calming, reassuring effect they had before.

“I thought they came here because they all want to fuck me,” Willy retorts and Henke’s movement pauses. Willy feels too aware of the single point of contact where Henke’s hand is resting, low on his stomach. Eddie whistles, then laughs as he sits up with some effort. He slides off the side of the bed on shaky legs, pulling off the used condom as he goes. Henke doesn’t pay him any attention. 

“You know that’s not— You already—” Henke starts in a placating tone, but Willy interrupts him.

“I want to, though. I want more,” he says decisively, looking straight into Henke’s eyes. There’s an electric buzzing under his skin and the exhaustion he felt before is gone completely. He feels more awake now, less anticipatory nervousness coursing through his veins. Henke’s hesitation doesn’t last long. He looks a bit taken aback for a second, but then his face relaxes back into a satisfied smile. Willy could swear he almost looks proud.

“Well, you can always have more. Do you want to pick again? Or should I do it this time?” he offers, wiping away the last traces of Willy’s orgasm. Willy sits up and looks around for the first time since Eddie had joined him on the bed, surveying his audience. 

His eyes automatically land on Nicky first, and he feels a sharp pang in his chest. Instead of looking at him, Nicky is leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed, hands clenched tightly at his side. 

Anger flares up in the pit of Willy’s stomach. He should just fucking leave if he doesn’t want to be here. It’s distracting. He’s distracting, and there are people here who actually want Willy. Willy looks away, wanting something, anything else to catch his eyes.

Next to Nicky is Bill, who looks attractively flushed and bothered. Willy smirks at him and raises an eyebrow, making Bill roll his eyes in a way that looks more affectionate than annoyed. 

Lindy looks a lot more rumpled than the last time Willy had checked, and Gabe is basically plastered to his back, but they both have their eyes on him and Willy preens a bit at that, sitting up straighter. Eddie is just settling back into his chair next to them, looking a bit shaky, but also perfectly sated and content. 

Close to the window, Ollie is leaning back against the wall, staring unashamedly. His posture looks perfectly at ease, but the way he drags his eyes down Willy’s entire body makes Willy shiver. He spreads his legs a bit automatically, instantly becoming aware of the feeling of tacky leftover lube still sticking to his ass and the back of his thighs, where some of it had dripped down while he was riding Eddie. 

Ollie’s eyes flicker down, before he straightens up, meeting Willy’s gaze head on, raising an eyebrow in question, or maybe as a challenge, Willy isn’t quite sure. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out husky when he speaks. 

“Before, what were you saying about our d-men taking care of me properly?” he asks, eyes firmly on Ollie. Henke actually chuckles at that, but it’s Ollie who responds.

“Would you like to find out?” he asks, voice casual, even though Willy can see the tension in his body now, the careful way he’s holding himself still. “Promise you’ll enjoy it. And we’ll finally get to see how pretty you look spread out across those sheets.” Willy flushes, heat rising up his neck, and he feels breathless all of a sudden. “Not that seeing you on top of Eddie wasn’t hot, but I’d love to see what you look like when you’re really getting fucked.” 

He ends that statement with a lazy, confident smile and Willy practically feels his blood rushing to his dick. He’s already starting to get hard again just from Ollie’s words even thought he’d just come minutes before, and a part of him feels like he should be embarrassed about that. He suppresses the urge to cover himself. Henke just huffs. 

“Careful with that one, he’s a bit mouthy.” 

“Yeah, but you like that,” Ollie retorts immediately, a sly grin on his face. “And so do you, I think,” he adds, turning his full attention back on Willy. “It doesn’t even have to be me,” he continues, “I’d love to see you take Vic.”

Willy swallows, his throat feeling dry, and his eyes automatically flicker over to Ollie’s side. Victor probably isn’t trying to loom on purpose, but he still sort of does it anyway, filling out the space in front of the window. He gives Willy a small smile when he catches him looking, his cheeks a bit red, and his eyes soft. Willy almost feels bad about the way his eyes immediately wander to the bulge in his sweats. 

Ollie laughs. “You like that idea, don’t you? We’d probably have to stretch you out a bit more for his dick, he’s quite a lot.”

“Ollie,” Victor hisses, his ears going red as he jabs him in the side with an elbow. Ollie’s grin just widens and he shrugs, but he doesn’t say anything else, and Willy finally releases the breath he’d been holding. 

He digs his fingers into the sheets underneath him for something to hold on to as his mind flicks through the images Ollie is putting in his head. 

“Yeah,” he says, slowly, his voice coming out surprisingly steady. “I want you first, though.” Ollie looks startled for the blink of an eye, but his bravado returns immediately. 

“Oh yeah, I can do that,” he says and pushes off the wall without further invitation, stripping off his shirt as he walks across the room. Willy watches his broad shoulders, the way they taper off down to his narrow waist, the well defined muscles along his side and stomach. He wants to touch, wants to put his mouth on them, trace the rigid lines with his tongue and feel Ollie shiver underneath his lips. He doesn’t get the chance. 

Ollie doesn’t pause once he gets to the bed, just climbs over Willy without preamble and kisses him. Willy’s startled moan gets swallowed up by his mouth, as does the noise he makes when the rough fabric of Ollie’s jeans brushes against his bare thigh. Ollie’s body covers his completely, and it’s different than with Bill, faster and more heated right away. Ollie doesn’t tease him, just takes what he wants, and Willy’s whole body lights up with it. 

Willy grabs at his shoulders to pull him closer, and Ollie rolls his hips down. Willy jerks, hissing at the drag of denim against his still-sensitive dick, and then bucks up, trying to get more of it, his fingers digging into Ollie’s shoulders. He can feel the hot line of Ollie’s own dick even through the thick fabric, and suddenly it isn’t enough anymore. He bites Ollie’s lip, more of a playful nip than anything that would actually hurt, but Ollie pulls away anyway.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” Willy pants out and Ollie laughs, more breathy than before.

“And here I was trying to be nice first,” he teases, but his eyes look dark and hungry now, and it sends a shiver up Willy’s spine. 

“Alright,” he starts, rolling off Willy to give him space to move, before looking at him, considering. “I can’t quite decide if I wanna look at your pretty face while I fuck you, or if I’d rather have you on your hands and knees,” he contemplates out loud, and Willy’s dick jerks, almost painfully hard already. “Hands and knees, I think. Wonderful view,” Ollie decides with a smirk, his eyes flickering down to the curve of Willy’s ass.

Willy rolls onto his stomach instantly, hissing when his dick rubs against the soft sheets at the movement, before he can get his knees underneath him and push himself up. He stares at the nondescript beige sheet in front of him, anticipation filling his lungs as he waits for Ollie’s next move.

He almost jumps when Ollie touches him again, not expecting the gentle hand stroking along his back. “Not this way,” Ollie says, and Willy lifts his head to look at him in confusion. “Just because I can’t see your face like this doesn’t mean the others shouldn’t get the pleasure.”

Heat spills down Willy’s chest and he’s sure his whole body is turning red. He doesn’t move until Ollie nudges his hip and makes him turn around. From the new position he can easily see the whole room. Instead of having the headboard to stare at, he lifts his head to come face to face with half of his team and it’s not— it shouldn’t be different. 

They all just watched him ride Eddie, watched Lindy finger him with a perfect view of his ass being spread open before that, but Willy still instantly drops his head, face burning. A hot spike of shame shoots through his stomach and he tries to push it down, tries to calm his breathing and relax his body, but it doesn’t work. He feels exposed, too aware of how many eyes are on him, for reasons he can’t really describe, and he wants to hide his face in the bedding. The childish impulse makes another trickle of shame curl in his gut, so he just closes his eyes instead.

“You don’t want to look at them, huh?” Ollie says, voice closer to his ear than Willy had expected, and quiet, almost conspiratorial. “That’s okay, we can give you something else to focus on.” The bed shifts as he moves, and then an arm wraps around Willy’s middle and suddenly he can feel Ollie’s body against his own, Ollie’s chest pressing against his back and their legs brushing together. 

It should be uncomfortable, should make him feel caged in, but it doesn’t. Instead he feels some of the tension inside him release, the muscles in his back relaxing when Ollie presses a soft kiss to each shoulder blade. 

The position also puts Ollie’s dick right against his ass, and Willy can feel that he’s hard, can feel the heat of him even through his jeans.

“That’s better,” Ollie murmurs, placing an open mouthed kiss against one of the knobs of Willy’s spine, his teeth scraping over the thin skin there, making a shiver run through his whole body, all the way down to his toes. “God, you feel so good underneath me. I love being able to touch you like this.” His hand wanders up Willy’s chest to rub at his nipples and Willy lets out a strangled little moan at how intense it feels.

“You make the most beautiful little noises, I can’t wait to get inside of you,” Ollie adds, voice soft, almost loving, and Willy’s breath stutters. He instinctively rocks backwards against Ollie, who hisses at the contact. His hand tightens on Willy’s hips in response, fingernails digging into the skin in small, delicious pinpricks of pain.

The bed dips next to Willy’s hand and he instinctively looks up to find Victor smiling down at him sort of hesitantly. He’s not looming now, not invading Willy’s space in any way, even though he takes up quite a bit of room on the bed, and it’s strangely calming to have him so close by. 

“And here’s your distraction,” Ollie says, before Willy can ask what’s going on.

“Distraction?” Willy responds, preoccupied by the way Ollie’s touching him, the firm hold on his hips, contrasted by the light pressure of him against Willy’s back. Ollie hums against Willy’s skin, the vibration making goosebumps spring up all along Willy’s back even though it’s so warm he’s sweating.

“He’s very sweet, you’ll see,” Ollie says, not really answering the question at all, and Willy can feel the smile on his lips as they press against his neck in a quick kiss. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s just as desperate to get his dick inside of you as the rest of us, but unlike me he’d never say that to your face.” Willy’s whole body feels unbearably hot, every single one of Ollie’s soft, gentle touches, every one of his words going straight to his dick.

“Stop talking about me like I can’t hear you,” Victor chimes in, a blush high on his cheeks. “Just ignore him, he likes to think he’s funny,” he says to Willy, and Ollie gives an amused snort.

“Don’t pretend it’s not true,” Ollie says, before turning his full attention back to Willy. His fingers trail down to lightly push against the rim of Willy’s hole, still sticky with drying lube, and he jerks, his whole body so tuned in to Ollie’s movements. “I think you’d like that as well, wouldn’t you? Being split open on his big dick? I think you like it when it’s a stretch, when it hurts a bit,” he murmurs, trailing more soft kisses down Willy’s spine, the gentleness a sharp contrast to the filth coming out of his mouth. 

“Ollie,” Victor snaps, but Willy can’t really pay attention, his gaze automatically drifting down Victor’s body to land on the place where his dick is tenting the fabric of his shorts. Saliva pools uncomfortably in his mouth and he has to swallow and quickly avert his gaze. He clenches down on nothing, and Ollie must feel it because he laughs, low and dirty. Willy can feel every single gust of his breath against his skin.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be gentle,” he says, before pushing two of his fingers into Willy, punching another gasp out of his chest. Ollie has long, nimble fingers and Willy can feel every single one of his knuckles slide into him, catching slightly on the rim, lube not fresh enough to make it easy. He can’t breathe. 

“I could be gentle as well,” Ollie mumbles against his skin, and Willy can feel the movement of his lips more than he pays attention to the actual words. “But I don’t think you want that.” As if to underline his words Ollie pushes in deeper with one fast movement, twisting and crooking his fingers until Willy’s whole body lights up and he lets out a startled moan. His arms are shaking under the task of holding himself up, and Ollie isn’t even fucking him yet.

Then Ollie moves away, pulling his fingers out. A distressed, needy noise slips out of Willy’s throat without his permission, and Ollie chuckles, laying a reassuring hand on Willy’s hip. “Breathe,” he whispers, and Willy does, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen as he sucks in the air. “Good. I’m just getting some more lube. Relax.”

Willy feels him shift on the bed, moving away as Willy keeps breathing. His body feels like a live wire, hyper-aware of every single point of contact, every movement around him, too conscious of how he’s not being touched right now. His hands grasp at the sheets again, and his eyes wander across the bed, coming to rest on Victor’s thighs splayed out in front of him. There’s soft skin peeking out from the edge of his shorts and Willy wants to touch.

He doesn’t even notice that he’d unconsciously moved closer until he feels Ollie’s hand on his hip again and freezes. 

“You know, I said I’d like to see him fuck you, and I do, but I’m starting to think it would be nice to see you choking on his dick as well,” Ollie says, casually kneading his fingers into the sensitive skin of Willy’s hip and Willy almost gags on his own spit. “It’d be quite the challenge, but would you like to try?”

Willy isn’t even aware that he automatically nods his head, only realizes that he’d already given a response when he feels Ollie laugh again, warm and low in a way that makes something inside him coil tight, that makes Willy want to please him. He looks up at Victor from underneath his eyelashes. 

The blush on Victor’s face had intensified while Willy hadn’t been looking at him, and he licks his lips. “You don’t have to—” Victor starts, but is interrupted by Ollie letting out a huff of hot air just as his warmth settles against Willy’s back again, bare skin brushing.

“Of course you don’t. But you can if you want to. Vic would certainly like you to.” Victor ducks his head a bit at that, but he doesn’t deny it. The buzzing underneath Willy’s skin is even more intense now, but he wants to be sure anyway.

“Do you really?” he asks, and the words are strangely difficult to get out. To his relief Victor nods instantly.

“Yeah, of course, I just don’t…” he trails off, looking unsure.

“He’s worried about you trying to push yourself, because he has a huge dick,” Ollie murmurs, so close his breath brushes against Willy’s earlobe, making Willy shiver. “But he’s too polite to actually say that, so that’s what you have me for,” he adds, turning his head towards Victor, his hair brushing over Willy’s neck.

“Thanks a lot,” Victor replies, sounding sort of fondly exasperated by Ollie, and not nearly as turned on as Willy would like. “It’s really not a big deal,” he adds and Willy can practically feel how Ollie is just barely restraining himself from commenting on the word choice. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

It’s strangely comforting, how careful they both are with him, each in their own way. Willy doesn’t feel like being careful though. 

“I like a challenge,” he says, shifting his hand on the sheets, brushing his fingers along Victor’s thigh, sneaking one of them underneath the fabric of his shorts to stroke along soft, sensitive skin. Victor goes still.

“Oh, I like the way you think,” Ollie says, putting one hand on Willy’s ass possessively. “How do you feel about my fingers in your ass while you blow him?” Ollie asks, already slipping a slicked finger down to Willy’s hole, but not pushing inside yet. A shudder goes through Willy’s body, his nerves tuned in to the sensation. 

“Go—” He has to clear his throat. “Go ahead,” he says, even though he probably shouldn’t. It’ll be distracting, probably too distracting to give a proper blowjob, but he doesn’t care, too greedy for the feeling of being filled up as much as he is for the weight of Victor’s dick on his tongue. 

“How do you want me?” Victor asks, and then helpfully gets up to strip off his shorts, while Willy tries to focus enough to think about it.

“Don’t care, just— whatever works,” Willy says. He doesn’t get to watch as Victor get himself situated on the bed, because Ollie pushes both his fingers back into him roughly, and Willy’s eyes fall shut as he rides out the sudden shock. When he opens them again, Victor is sitting in front of him, so that Willy has perfect access to crawl into his lap if he wants to. 

The position also puts his dick right in front of Willy’s face, hard and flushed red and everything Ollie promised. Willy licks his suddenly very dry lips one more time, picturing the pressure against the back of his throat, like he can already feel the thick stretch of it, and he doesn’t want to wait for an invitation. He doesn’t bother to pace himself with small kitten licks or kisses as a warm-up, too aware that Ollie won’t let him stay coherent enough to do this properly for long. Instead Willy just wraps his lips around the head of Victor’s dick and sucks.

Victor makes a low noise that might be a moan, but Willy only notices on the periphery of his awareness. The taste on his tongue is salty and a bit bitter, not exactly pleasant, but overwhelming in a good way, just like the stretch against the corners of Willy’s mouth that makes him feel full in a different way from Ollie’s fingers. He moans, barely audible with his mouth so full, and pushes deeper, trying to get more. Victor’s dick actually twitches in his mouth when it bumps against the back of his throat, and it makes something inside Willy’s stomach coil tight in satisfaction. 

Willy doesn’t have a hand free to make it really good, doesn’t even have particularly good leverage to move his head in this position, but it doesn’t matter. Victor helpfully wraps a hand around the base, holding his dick still so Willy can at least try to set a rhythm. 

He’s uncoordinated, there’s saliva running out the side of his mouth and it’s already the sloppiest blowjob he’s ever given, but Victor doesn’t seem to care, making encouraging noises. One of his hands is softly stroking through Willy’s hair and Willy wishes he would hold him down, would fuck his mouth, even though he knows what a horrible idea that would be in practice.

A sharp pain in the back of his thigh makes him jerk and he almost chokes himself, pulling off Victor’s dick to draw in a quick breath. 

“Sorry, didn’t want you to forget about me,” Ollie says, and Willy’s still panting, greedily sucking in air, so it takes him a moment to wrap his mind around the fact that Ollie just _bit him_. He doesn’t actually let Willy catch his breath enough to respond, but starts moving his fingers inside of Willy again, and it’s only when the insistent pressure, the slight drag against his rim is back that Willy realizes how still Ollie had held all throughout him first getting his mouth on Victor’s dick.

Willy still hasn’t caught his breath, but at this point he’s probably not going to, so he just dives back in, sliding down Victor’s dick as far as he can without choking himself. He feels so full this way, so surrounded and overwhelmed, that his thoughts have all left his head and and only feelings are left behind. 

Before he can even start moving his mouth properly, Ollie slides a third finger into him, and Willy has to pull off again, moaning helplessly at the delicious stretch, his arms shaking. Ollie pushes into him hard and fast, twisting his fingers in a way that makes Willy’s thighs tremble, but it’s not even close to enough.

“Hurry up,” he pants. “Fuck me already.” Ollie makes a noise that might as well have been a moan, and for the first time Willy notices how hard he’s breathing as well, how he can feel Ollie’s chest moving with it, brushing against his side on every quick exhale. 

“Whatever you want,” Ollie says, and then pulls out his fingers, leaving Willy empty and tuned in to every single touch, almost shaking with anticipation. He shivers when Ollie’s hand settles on his ass again, as he grazes Willy’s side as he gets into position.

“Use a fucking condom, you idiot,” someone says, sounding tense, almost angry, and Willy’s whole body freezes at the sound of Nicky’s voice.

Ollie just huffs, offended. “Calm down, I am. I wouldn’t—” he breaks off, and Willy feels him go strangely still. Willy’s chest feels tight, like there’s something squeezing him together inside. 

“You can over come here and make sure, if you want to,” Ollie offers, and Willy gasps sharply. Ollie’s fingertips land on Willy’s neck, stroking all the way down his spine in a slow, deliberate caress that’s probably supposed to soothe, but instead makes goosebumps spring up all along Willy’s body, making him shudder.

“Would you like that?” Ollie whispers, low and intimate, his mouth suddenly so close to Willy’s ear and he hadn’t even noticed him moving. “Having Nicky close by while I fuck you? Having him watch as I take you apart and make you beg for it?” A desperate, whimpering noise makes its way up Willy’s throat, completely without his input. His cheeks are on fire.

There’s a fierce yearning in his chest, so strong he has to close his eyes for a moment, completely unable to say anything. Nicky is silent as well, neither accepts nor refuses Ollie’s offer, and there’s a strange rushing in Willy’s ears that makes it difficult to tell if there’s any telltale rustling of clothing to indicate if Nicky had moved in any way. 

A hand cards through his hair gently, affectionately, but when Willy looks up it’s only Victor. He immediately feels a spike of guilt in his chest for thinking that. It intensifies when he realizes that he’d completely neglected Victor while he’d had his little freakout.

“Sorry, I…” he starts, but then decides against speaking, leaning down instead so he can take Victor’s dick into his mouth again. It’s a relief to be able to focus on something else again, to get lost in the sensation of Victor’s taste on his tongue, the little noises he makes whenever Willy slides down as far as he can go, and to ignore how fragile he feels. Ollie’s hand settles on his side, rubbing across the tense muscles, and it helps Willy relax again, helps him regain some semblance of control over himself, but it’s still not enough. 

“Are you okay with me fucking you now?” Ollie asks, voice a lot gentler than he’d been the rest of the evening. “Or do you wanna finish off Vic first?” Willy really should, probably, but he feels rattled and restless, and he doesn’t want focus on anyone else anymore, just wants to let Ollie take care of him.

He pulls off again. “Please,” he breathes out insistently, then looks up at Victor, biting his lip. “I don’t think I can—” he starts, but Victor just shakes his head, smiling down at him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures calmly, his hand still gently carding through Willy’s hair, even though Willy can see how hard he is, had felt it on his tongue just moments before. “I like just watching you, too,” he adds, and heat rises up in Willy’s chest at the image of Victor serenely watching him get fucked. “And I’d really like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

It’s probably weird that that’s the request that makes Willy’s ears heat up, but for it does. He nods and Victor carefully grasps his shoulders to pull him up, and presses his lips to Willy’s. It’s strangely tender, Victor’s lips moving against his softly, not even trying to push, so different from anything that happened before and it’s— it’s lovely, making Willy feel cherished and adored and makes him forget all about his impatience for a second. 

He breaks the kiss with a gasp and looks at Victor with wide eyes. “I—” He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even really understand what he’s feeling, but he almost wants to cry, with how delicate he feels. 

“You feel ready for Ollie?” Victor asks, and that brings Willy back to his body, back to his arousal, his dick straining up against his stomach, his slicked and empty hole, and the urgency fizzing through his blood. 

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing the onset of nerves. “Don’t make it— Don’t be too gentle,” he murmurs, pretty sure that Victor and Ollie are the only ones that can hear him. Ollie doesn’t respond out loud, but his hands on Willy’s hips tighten. Victor gives him a considering look that makes Willy squirm a bit, but then he backs off, letting Willy sink back down to his hands. 

Ollie doesn’t really warn him. He just shoves in with one long, sure stroke that knocks a startled noise out of Willy’s chest, before it makes him moan. He barely has time to get used to how full he feels, how spread open and stretched, before Ollie pushes in further. Willy can feel his hips press up against his ass, and can’t focus on anything besides the insistent pressure inside of him.

Ollie only gives Willy the slightest chance to adjust, before he pulls back and starts thrusting in a quick, deep rhythm. Willy moans as he shifts his hips, changing the angle so every thrust send little shocks up his spine, and his head falls forward, his mouth hanging open as he tries to take in enough air.

He can feel Ollie holding back though, so he tries to gather his thoughts enough to speak. “Harder, I want— more,” he gasps out between ragged breaths. Ollie grunts an acknowledgement, slamming into him so hard Willy’s arms give out, and he drops to his elbows, face hovering inches above the sheets, making it hard to breathe.

Someone tugs at Willy’s hair, turning his head sideways and pulling him forward so his cheek is resting against Victor’s thigh. Willy barely pays attention, his whole body shivers every time Ollie gets the angle just right and he makes an embarrassing whimpering noise at a particularly hard thrust. He’s so close already, feels like just a little bit of friction could tip him over the edge, but he doesn’t reach down to touch himself, burying his head against Victor’s thigh instead, his lips dragging along his skin wetly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Victor says, voice a focal point to latch on to, to ground him as Ollie slams into him relentlessly, sending shock wave after shock wave through his body. Willy lets out a whine and presses his mouth to Victor’s skin, too uncoordinated to place a real kiss there. “Do you want me to get you off?” Victor asks, hand already brushing along Willy’s stomach, but not actually touching his dick yet.

“No, I—” Willy pants out, then bites down on Victor’s thigh as Ollie hits him just right again. “I wanna— I can—” Victor’s hand stills immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” Ollie breathes out, and his movements stutter. “Fuck, that’s— I can’t believe how fucking hot you are,” he babbles as his thrusts get shallower. Willy whines, and Ollie shushes him, digging his hands into Willy’s hips some more. 

“Vic, can you—” Ollie says, and suddenly there are hands on Willy’s shoulders, pushing him upright. He doesn’t have any strength left to hold himself up, but he doesn’t have to when Ollie wraps a possessive arm around his middle, pulling Willy back against his chest. 

Willy doesn’t know why they changed positions, but the amount of skin contact feels good, even if they’re both sticky with sweat, and then Ollie thrusts up into him and all his nerve endings go into overdrive. He lets his head fall back against Ollie’s shoulder and moans, long and drawn out, as Ollie picks up the pace again. Willy can feel the muscles in his thighs contracting, can hear his ragged breathing in his ear, can feel Ollie hot and rigid inside him, and his own dick is so hard it hurts. 

He’s so close. His muscles shake as he tries to get more, to meet Ollie’s thrusts and get him even deeper somehow, but he’s not quite there, not quite…

Ollie’s arm around his stomach tightens. “I got you, babe,” he says, and his voice is strained, “come for me.” And that’s it. Willy’s dick jumps and he comes, almost sobbing at the sudden relief, the sudden release of pent-up pressure. He feels like his whole body is shaking with it, like he has no control over any of his muscles anymore.

He can still feel Ollie moving inside him, fucking up into him in fast, jerky thrusts, and it’s a lot, but it feels good too. Just when it’s starting to be too much Ollie’s hips suddenly still, and Willy feels a gust of breath against his ear as Ollie groans and comes too.

Willy does his best to rock his hips a bit, let Ollie ride out the aftershocks properly, but he can barely move. His legs are trembling, and there’s a tingling sensation all the way down to his toes, but he feels so good, his whole body feels loose and heavy. He’s glad Ollie is still holding him up, can feel the warmth of him all along his back and underneath him. 

It takes more effort than it should to open his eyes, especially given that he’s not even sure when he closed them, but Willy manages after a moment. Victor is still sitting in front of him with a sort of awed expression on his face, like he’d just seen something breathtaking. Willy can’t help but preen a bit, stretching out his tired muscles a little.

“You okay?” Ollie asks, sounding breathless. His lips brushing against Willy’s ear before he leans down to kiss the ball of Willy’s shoulder, a intimate, delicate gesture. Willy nods, a smile sneaking its way onto his lips automatically. He feels like he’s glowing, all relaxed and content and happy.

“I feel great,” he murmurs, and his voice comes out sounding a bit hoarse. He shifts his hips lightly and Ollie makes a pained sound, drawing Willy’s attention to where he can still feel Ollie’s dick inside of him, softening now, and blood rushes to his cheeks. It feels weird, but not really bad. The insistent need to come is gone, but Willy can’t help but rock down anyway, just to get a reaction. Ollie groans at the movement, pushing at Willy’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Oh god, you’re gonna kill me,” he moans, and grabs Willy’s hips to make him get off, but his hands are gentle. Willy feels another kiss against his shoulder blade. He tries to get up, but his legs don’t really cooperate until Victor puts his hands on his sides to help, more or less lifting him off. 

He lets Willy lie down on the bed, making sure he doesn’t end up in the wet spot in the middle. Willy idly wonders how it got there, until he distantly remembers rutting down into the sheets when Ollie was fucking him, but he doesn’t feel a twinge of embarrassment this time, just feels warm and taken care of instead.

As he comes down from his high, he starts to register how messy he is. His whole stomach is sticky with come and sweat, and he feels a bit sore, stretched in a way that’s different from how it felt to have Ollie actually inside of him. There’s also tacky leftover lube along his thighs, and he can feel the clingy wetness on his ass as well. 

It should be gross, but Willy kind of loves it, loves how tender his body feels, how drained and exhausted. The desperation is gone now, and he doesn’t feel restless anymore, but when he squirms just to feel the pleasant burn in his muscles he isn’t quite ready for this to be over either. He doesn’t feel like he’s fully taken advantage of the situation yet, like he still has more to give, more to take.

“Everything okay, babe?” a voice asks, and Willy turns to find Ollie lying next to him now, looking at him with a more earnest, more careful expression. 

Willy hums, satisfied, and leans over to kiss him, short and sweet, just because he can, because Ollie wants him. Ollie laughs when they separate and runs a hand through Willy’s hair. “Guess we should get cleaned up, huh?” he asks, a twinkle in his eyes that Willy can’t help but react to.

“Together?” he asks, grin on his face, and Ollie laughs again.

“You just don’t get enough, do you?” he teases, and it could be mean, but it isn’t, so Willy just makes an appreciative noise. He doesn’t really need more, would be perfectly happy if the night ended here, but it’s always nice to be wanted. Ollie’s probably not interested in another go, he looks exhausted, but it’s not like he’s the only option. Although they hadn’t been on his mind for a while, Willy hadn’t exactly forgotten about the rest of the guys in the room. 

“It doesn’t have to be you,” he says with a grin, and Ollie lets out a huff that’s probably meant to sound offended, but honestly mostly sounds fond. Willy lifts up onto his elbows so he can see over Ollie and look at the rest of the room. His gaze drifts to Victor first, who’s still sitting on the bed, but had apparently put his shorts back on. A shame, really.

His eyes fall on Nicky, and his heart rate spikes when he sees that Nicky has actually come closer to the bed, that he’s standing mere feet away. He is looking at Willy this time, his eyes dragging over Willy’s naked body, and Willy feels a new heat start up deep inside of him.

It’s difficult to meet Nicky’s gaze, but he does, and this time Nicky doesn’t look away. He doesn’t look calm and collected like he does on the ice, or happy and fond like he does when they spend time together. Instead he looks rattled, something like shock or shame, but also very clearly desire on his face, and it hits Willy like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of him. 

Willy slowly runs a hand across his chest, down to his messy stomach, and watches as Nicky’s eyes track the movement, until he suddenly blinks, his eyes snapping back up to Willy’s face.

“Nicky?” Willy asks, voice quiet and careful, like he’s trying not to scare off a wild animal. Nicky still recoils. It’s not obvious, but the movement is there, his body pulling in on itself just slightly, and that’s enough for Willy. He sighs, and lets himself drop back on the bed again, suddenly tired. He doesn’t want to think about this, doesn’t want to think about anything at all, just revel in how much someone wants him, even if it’s just for tonight. Even if that can’t be Nicky.

“Victor?” he says, eyes darting back to where Victor is still sitting by his feet. 

“You want me to clean you up?” Victor asks, already planting his feet on the ground, ready to get up. Willy shakes his head.

“No, I want you to fuck me.” 

Everything sort of freezes. Willy hears Nicky suck in a sharp breath next to him and feels spitefully vindicated, but he doesn’t turn his head to look at him. Victor mostly looks startled.

“Aren’t you way too sensitive for that? I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and Willy feels all of that warm fondness returning, rushing through his body.

“It’s fine,” he assures, even though he can feel the strain he’s put on his body already, can feel the oncoming ache in his muscles, and the way his skin feels strangely raw. “Come on.” He spreads his legs again, a clear invitation, and even though Victor’s eyes automatically flicker down, he doesn’t take it right away. 

“You don’t have to prove anything, you know?” he says, quiet enough that most of the others probably can’t hear him. 

“I know. I just want you.” It’s so easy to say it to Victor. There’s no risk of rejection, no need to wonder what this might mean, and Willy’s trust is confirmed when Victor nods and comes closer. He puts his large hands on Willy’s knees so he can move them as he wants and then slides them up all the way up to his thighs. Willy’s whole body jolts at the contact, at the way Victor’s fingers feel against his sensitive skin as much as at the image of Victor touching him like this.

“What do you want me to do?” Victor asks, as if Willy hadn’t already told him. He gently rubs his hands across the thick muscle behind Willy’s knees and presses his thumbs into the soft, vulnerable skin of Willy’s inner thighs. Willy’s breath hitches, and his dick twitches weakly, making Willy almost whimper at the feeling, not quite painful but too much sensation either way. Victor’s eyes drift downwards, and he looks thoughtful. “Do you think you can come again?” 

Willy gasps, involuntary. “I don’t— I don’t know,” he gets out, distracted by his body going from lazy contentment to reactive sensitivity, not quite sure whether to translate the new input as pain or pleasure.

“Do you want to?” Victor asks, and heat shoots up Willy’s cheeks, a shiver up his spine. “Because I could probably get you there,” he adds, calm, like the quiet confidence in his voice isn’t the hottest thing Willy’s heard all evening. Willy has to swallow twice before he can gather enough words to answer.

“Yeah, please. I wanna try,” is all he manages, his voice sounding hoarse and breathless to his own ears. Victor’s eyes noticeably darken as he lets them travel over Willy’s body, and his grip tightens almost imperceptibly.

“Good. Lie down.” Willy lets his head fall back onto a pillow that’s somehow right behind him, staring up at the white ceiling. He can feel his chest move with every breath he takes, can feel the soft fabric of the sheets against his back, and the way there is still mostly-dried come on his stomach. He idly wonders if it would have been nice for Victor if he’d gotten cleaned up first, or if the thought of getting Willy after he’d already come, after he’d already been fucked by someone else, is hot for him.

The warmth of Victor’s hands disappears, but before Willy can lift his head to see what’s going on, there’s a soft touch against his hole and his entire body jerks. Willy hadn’t felt that tender while Ollie had fucked him, but now that his body’s had a break, new contact feels like too much. Victor touches him again, pressing one of his fingers into Willy this time, and Willy lets his head fall to the side, panting wetly into the pillow, closing his eyes to let the feeling wash over him. 

He barely feels the stretch of Victor’s finger after having taken Ollie’s dick before, but it’s like all his nerve endings are ignited, like his attention is zeroed in on where Victor is pushing into him, and every little movement sets off a new wave of shivers throughout his whole body. Willy tries to imagine what it’ll be like to have Victor’s dick inside of him, but the thought alone is too much. 

Victor slowly presses another finger in and Willy’s mouth drops open at the delicious drag of it inside him. It doesn’t last too long, and the fingers disappear soon afterwards, giving Willy a much-needed break. Just when he feels like he’s starting to get his body back under control, there’s a wet, warm pressure against his hole and he actually yelps. Victor licks at him again, and even though he knows what’s coming this time, Willy isn’t any better prepared. He moans, high and helpless, and buries his face in the pillow.

Then he actually feels Victor’s tongue inside of him, feels his lips move against his rim, and it’s too much, but god, it feels good, it feels amazing, but he’s so sensitive that his whole body is shaking with it. He thrashes in the sheets and he’s glad Victor is holding on to his thighs again because his muscles are twitching, completely out of his control. 

He’s distantly aware that he keeps making high, whining noises, and it’s embarrassing, but he doesn’t care. He feels completely unmoored, like he’s barely even in his own body anymore, like all that’s left of him is the feeling flooding his whole nervous system. 

Someone grabs his hand, which had been helplessly clutching at the sheets, trying to find something to hold on to. It feels so good to have something else to focus on, the steady, firm hold grounding him, and he makes a grateful noise, too out of it to find words. 

Victor lets up, pulls back to finally let Willy catch his breath, and let him get himself back together as much as he can. Willy’s left gasping on the bed, watching as Victor delicately wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, looking slick with spit, and suddenly wants nothing more than to kiss him. There’s a deep, vicious hunger sitting inside his gut, eradicating every bit of shame he might have felt before.

“Come here, I wanna— I want you,” he stutters, and he doesn’t even have enough energy to prop himself up, but he tries anyway. The movement shifts his hand, still desperately holding onto someone else’s, and he looks over at the other person for the first time.

Nicky looks startled to suddenly have Willy meet his eyes. He tries to pull away, to extract his hand, but Willy holds on, just for a second, just to show Nicky that it’s okay, that he wants him here, and Nicky relents almost immediately.

“Do you still want me to fuck you? I could just get you off like this,” Victor offers, drawing Willy’s attention back to him, back to where he’s kneeling between Willy’s spread legs, and Willy instantly feels guilty for ever looking away from him. 

“No, I want you,” he says honestly and reaches out his free hand to draw Victor in, who comes to him easily, leaning down so Willy can finally kiss him again. Victor keeps it close-mouthed and gentle, and the way he’s leaning over Willy, covering his entire body with his own, makes him feel surrounded, safe. 

Now that he’s not completely overwhelmed, he’s becoming more and more aware of his own arousal, the way his dick lies hard against his stomach, a bit tender from how recently he’d come. His hips move restlessly, without his conscious decision, and he can feel Victor smile against his lips when he notices.

“It’s easier if you turn around,” Victor says when they break apart, and Willy knows that, theoretically, but a cold uneasiness settles in the bottom of his stomach at the idea of losing this closeness.

“I want it like this,” he says instead, and it’s not a question but Victor nods anyway, brushing a hand along Willy’s side soothingly. 

“Alright, whatever you like.” He sounds a bit breathless as well and for the first time Willy notices that there’s sweat beading on Victor’s forehead and across his shoulders, that his chest is flushed where it’s not covered in a dusting of hair. When he strips off his shorts Willy can see that his dick is hard and an angry red, and Willy is vividly reminded that Victor had never gotten to come while Ollie had fucked him. He automatically spreads his legs wider so Victor can slip between them, so he can get closer.

He reaches over Willy to take the bottle of lube that Nicky hands him, and Willy’s gaze lingers on Nicky’s hands, on his fingers, longer than it should, suddenly very aware of where Nicky’s other hand still lies in his own. Willy feels the pressure of Victor’s fingers back inside him, and it’s probably just perfunctory, to make sure he’s stretched enough, but it still sends sparks up Willy’s body. He moans loudly in the quiet room and has to close his eyes.

He’s so distracted by the feeling, by trying to ground himself, that he flinches when he suddenly feels the blunt head of Victor’s dick against his hole. 

“Okay?” Victor asks, his eyes wide and cautious as he looks down. Willy can feel how hard he is, how he must be desperate to thrust inside and finally get some relief at this point, but he holds perfectly still while he waits for an answer. Some strands of his hair are sticking to his forehead in a messy tangle and Willy suddenly has a powerful urge to reach up and brush them away. He just gives a nod instead and closes his eyes again.

Unlike Ollie, Victor doesn’t thrust inside in one fast stroke. He slowly pushes in, inch by inch, pausing to give Willy time to adjust, to check if Willy’s okay. Willy doesn’t know if he is, he only knows that he doesn’t want Victor to stop, doesn’t ever want him to move away again. Victor’s probing fingers hadn’t really prepared him for the way continuous, glorious pressure would feel against his already oversensitive nerve endings, how he loses all awareness of the rest of his body, all his consciousness focused on Victor sliding into him.

A broken whimper slips from Willy’s mouth, when Victor is finally all the way inside, filling him up, and he doesn’t know what to do, his whole body no longer under his control. He can feel lips press against his sternum, a soft, delicate pressure that makes him open his eyes. He puts a hand on Victor’s neck before he can move away again and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s open-mouthed and sloppy from the beginning, no coordination to speak of, but it doesn’t matter, it still makes Willy feel broken open and naked in a way that isn’t scary.

He wraps his legs around Victor’s waist to pull him in, needs him closer, as close as he can be, but the movement shifts Victor’s dick inside him, and another shock shoots through his body. Victor moans, breaking the kiss, but he he doesn’t move away, his lips still so close that Willy can feel his erratic breath against his own. Willy can feel Victor pressed against his body, inside of him, and his chest feels so full with emotion that he can’t do anything but hold onto him when he finally starts moving. 

Victor doesn’t really pull out and slam back in, just rocks into Willy in a slow, torturous rhythm that makes both of them gasp. It feels different from before, where Willy had felt like his body was lit up with every thrust. This feels more gradual, more visceral, more intimate, and Willy can not only feel the heat building in his gut but also how it spreads all through his body without his control. 

He wants to kiss Victor again, but his whole body feels clumsy and he only manages to press his lips to the edge of Victor’s mouth, missing his lips for the most part. Victor turns his head into it blindly to kiss him properly, but neither one of them can really focus enough to get it right. Victor’s hips snap forward, his dick sinking deeper into Willy, and he keens, throwing his head back as Victor’s thrusts speed up.

Willy pushes back, trying to get Victor even deeper, to get even more of him, focused on the steadily building desire in his gut. Victor grabs one of his legs and lifts it up so he can get even closer, can rock into Willy even better and Willy desperately clutches at him with his free hand. He’s lost all sense of time, of space, because nothing matters anymore, nothing but the steady pleasure rolling up his spine on every slow grind of Victor’s hips, the comforting weight of his body pressed against Willy’s, and the calming warmth of Nicky’s hand in his.

There might be words coming out of his mouth, but none of them are fully formed, just simple sounds of pleasure. There’s no desperation like there had been with Eddie or Ollie, so he’s surprised when Victor leans over him, his stomach brushing against Willy’s dick, and a sharp jolt goes through him. It’s just a little bit of friction, but it’s enough to make him whine, to make his hips buck up suddenly, to make Nicky squeeze his hand tighter. Willy comes like that, with a loud moan that gets knocked out of him in his surprise, and he hears a shocked gasp, but then it’s like he’s floating.

He’s still aware of his body, can still feel Victor pushing into him, but he only distantly registers that he’s making small noises that sound almost hurt. When he comes back down, when his muscles stop twitching uncontrollably, a languid, sated feeling flows through his body. Everything feels heavy and strangely muted, and he only winces slightly when Victor pulls out. 

It’s incredibly difficult to open his eyes, but he still does it, letting them fall shut again as soon as he sees that Victor’s come as well, that his dick is softening between his thighs. A tiny, careless part of him is disappointed when he sees Victor take off the condom, wonders what it would have felt like for Victor to come inside him, to have it dripping out of him when he’s already so sensitive. His whole body feels well-used and sore, but he still can’t help but think about how all that’s left on his skin is his own mess. 

He feels a soft touch against his hip, a kiss maybe, or just someone pressing their fingers to his skin. It makes him smile, either way.

Something brushes through his hair, fingers working through the sweaty strands without tugging at them, and Willy leans into it, wants more warmth, more contact. His body feels heavy, his thoughts sluggish, and it’s too difficult to focus on anything, so he doesn’t. Just enjoys the gentle caress, the contentment filling his body, and doesn’t worry about anything for a moment.

When he does finally open his eyes, he finds Nicky looking down at him, letting his eyes travel over Willy’s body with an unreadable expression. He smiles hesitantly when he sees Willy looking and Willy returns it instantly, the movement of the corners of his mouth lifting pulling strangely at his cheeks. Willy reaches up to touch, tired muscles already protesting at the action, and finds drying tear tracks on his own face, even though he can’t remember when he had started crying.

He’s slowly becoming aware of the rest of his body, the way the cooling come on his stomach is starting to get uncomfortable, how he can still feel the phantom impression of Victor’s dick stretching him open, but how it’s definitely on the wrong side of sensitive now. There’s an ache in his balls reminding him that coming three times in one evening might have been pushing it a bit, and he doesn’t has a single spark of desire to touch his dick, which feels tender and sore. 

He isn’t ashamed of the state his body is in, even though he’s a complete mess, and the realization fills him with a new wave of contentment. If Nicky were judging him he would have left, but he’s here, he’s touching Willy, so he can’t mind. Maybe he even likes it. Willy definitely isn’t coming again this evening, but…

“Nicky?” he mumbles, and it’s surprisingly difficult to form words. Nicky’s hand in his hair stills for only the fraction of a second, but Willy can feels the hesitation, can hear the quick, quiet intake of breath before Nicky continues his ministrations.

“Shhh, you’re okay,” he says, and it’s almost enough to make Willy close his eyes again so he can sink back down into his pool of contentment and comfort, but he doesn’t. Instead he squeezes Nicky’s hand to get his attention.

“D’you want me?” he asks, “Like this, I mean?” Nicky freezes. He doesn’t look away this time, doesn’t pull back, just studies Willy’s face with a careful expression.

“I do. All the time,” he finally responds, and he looks fragile in a way that Willy’s never seen him, like it costs him a lot to get the words out, like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret instead of making Willy’s chest feel lighter than when they’d gotten their gold medals together. Willy tries to sit up, but his body protests and so he just rolls onto his side to face Nicky. An unpleasant twinge shoots up his back and he winces. Nicky looks concerned, but Willy ignores it. 

“You can—” he starts, but Nicky shakes his head.

“Not now. You should rest.” Willy must make some sort of expression, because Nicky just smiles indulgently. “I’ll still want you tomorrow, don’t worry.” It settles the fluttering in Willy’s chest, makes him lie back down on the sheets completely, relaxing his tired muscles.

Something touches his hip and Willy turns just enough to look at Henke. He’d completely forgotten about him and if he wasn’t so tired he might feel bad about that, but instead he just feels a sleepy happiness at seeing him again.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay with Nicky taking care of you?” he asks softly, and there’s a glint in his eyes that Willy can’t quite place. Willy nods immediately and Henke pulls his hand back like he wants to leave.

“Wait,” Willy says, and Henke pauses. “Are you— I mean, do you—” His thoughts still feel muddled and he’s not sure what he even wants to say, but there’s a sense that he should say _something_.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Henke asks, and Willy shakes his head again, because that’s not it.

“No, just…thank you,” he says sincerely, and Henke laughs, deep and happy.

“You’re very welcome,” he says, amused, and leans down to place a coy kiss on Willy’s lips, before giving Nicky a playful grin and turning to leave. Willy watches him go, and only realizes belatedly that the room is now almost empty, only Eddie still waiting for Henke by the door. He beams at Willy when he sees him looking.

Nicky nudges his shoulder to get his attention.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?” he says, and Willy lets the feeling of Nicky by his side, of Nicky’s hands on his skin, wash over him for another moment.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I will very likely be writing a sequel for this as well. Guess what that's gonna be about ;)
> 
> Please let me know which one of the ships was your favorite! If you wanna talk about anything relating to the story, please leave me a comment or feel free to come talk to me on my [writing Tumblr](https://vidrianawrites.tumblr.com/)! I'm also toying with the idea of writing snippets from different characters' pov, so let me know if you have any requests (besides Nicky)!
> 
> Factual note: Thanks to the Leaf to Leaf video we now know that Willy prefers boxers to briefs, but I ignored this information because nothing will ever convince me that he wears baggy underwear. Therefore he's wearing (and then later not wearing) boxer-briefs in this!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic series] Good as Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939815) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




End file.
